


It All Started with Burnt Muffins ...

by cuphugaddict



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, At least they are getting there, BAMF Tilda, Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, Even though everything is a little overwhelming sometimes, F/M, Good Parent Bard, High School Drama, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Minor Character Death, Multiple Coming Outs, Multiple Relationships, Not Beta Read, Oblivious Bard, Pies, Pies everywhere, Teenage Legolas Greenleaf, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, mentioned - Freeform, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11215614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuphugaddict/pseuds/cuphugaddict
Summary: Bard tries hard to grant his three children the best possible life - but as a single parent (who works as a moderately paid mechanic) there is only so much you can do until chaos breaks loose. He thinks that he has done pretty well though. Until one day, a baking incident leads to the meeting of Tauriel and Legolas at a high school bakesale. A meeting, which leads to changes in the Bowman household that Bard would never have anticipated ...(Please give this story a chance, I suck at summaries ^^)





	It All Started with Burnt Muffins ...

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfic in this fandom ... I don't even know how this happened. One day the idea was there and I just had to get it written down. I hope you enjoy. Obviously, all the characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, who would probably rotate in his grave if he ever read this ... but at least all the mistakes are mine.

 

Bard sighed. This wasn’t good, at all.

He looked at the tray of muffins that set in front of him on the kitchen counter, steam rising from the baked goods that were not supposed to look that way … at least that’s what he thought.

 

“Good morning Da!” His youngest chanted happily, while she hopped into the kitchen.

 

“Morning Tilda darling …” Bard said, his eyes not leaving the burnt muffins. Somehow he seemed transfixed by the social death that had just been created for his eldest daughter by his lack of baking skills.

 

He noticed Tilda, lifting herself up on a chair so she could take a look onto the tray herself. “They seem a little …” she trailed off and for the first time that morning he looked directly at his youngest, running his hand lovingly through her sleep-mussed hair.

 

“Black?” he suggested and Tilda shrugged. “I wouldn’t say black but … really dark maybe?”

 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Bard chuckled. “Thanks sweetheart!” He kissed the top of her head. Then, both continued to stare at the muffins again. Bard had promised his eldest that he would take care of the supplies that were needed at the high school’s bake-sale, for which Sigrid had volunteered, while she kept studying for her finals. That had been the deal. And accordingly, his big girl had studied dutifully and now he had fucked up the muffins. Great, just great. Welcome to his life!

 

“Maybe I could try one and tell you if they at least taste good?” Tilda offered and Bard only shrugged.

 

“Honestly, I think that’s a good idea. Let’s try one each and decide from then on. Also, there is another tray so two won’t go amiss …” he said while he lifted two of the muffins up and was surprised how easy it was. A quick look proved that only the upper side was burnt … Maybe had hadn’t set the oven right?

 

He put two of them on a plate each while he set some milk on the oven for Tilda’s cocoa before he poured himself another mug of coffee. Seriously, why couldn’t Sigrid have volunteered for coffee?

 

Both Bowmans looked at each other, then on their plates, and then back at each other again. “Well, now or never sweetheart …” Bard said, “On the count of three?” Tilda nodded her head enthusiastically in agreement. “One … Two …”

 

“Three!” Tilda shouted and both took a bite of their respective muffin. At first, both chewed rather carefully, not knowing what explosion of taste would greet them, but soon, they did so with more confidence.

 

“Da, they’re really good …” Tilda encouraged and Bard did not know if he should like or dislike the wonder in his little girl’s voice.

 

“Hm … surprisingly so …” he said himself and took another bite, “If they were not burned at the top then maybe they would have been a decent thing to bring to the bake-sale today …”

 

Tilda rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Maybe we could cut off the top …” she suggested after a little while.

 

Bard raised his eyebrows. He and his little one thought alike, that much was sure. “Would be an option, but then they wouldn’t look pretty anymore I’m afraid …”

 

“And no one would buy them …” Tilda concluded and Bard sighed.

 

“And no one would buy them”, he confirmed, “And Sigrid wouldn’t be happy about that …” If Bain were awake yet, he surely would have emphasized that in that case, it would be more left for them. Which would not be helpful either, so thankfully, his boy was still asleep.

 

One glance towards the oven showed them both that the milk was already boiling so Bard got up and poured it into the already prepared mug. One burnt thing was enough for one day …

 

When he sat Tilda’s cup in front of her, she thanked him while munching on the muffin. “I have an idea …” she announced a few moments afterwards. “I’m all ears …” Bard sighed desperately.

 

“What if we cut off the top so that we have equally round muffin-things, like little cakes?” Bard nodded, “And then we dip them into hot chocolate and let them dry? It would look as if we intended them to be like that.” Tilda beamed up at him and Bard sighed happily.

 

“Tilda, my darling, that really is a good idea! A brilliant one, I would even say …” Bard answered with new hope in his voice. He got up from the table and started rummaging around in their kitchen. They surely still had chocolate somewhere. “Aha!” he said and triumphantly waved half a bar in front of him. "Do you think this will be enough?” he asked his youngest for advice and really, that picture was wrong on so many levels.

 

Tilda scrunched her nose, “Not for all of them, no.”

 

“Great”, Bard sighed.

 

“But we could dip only half of the cakes into the chocolate …” his daughter offered and Bard went over, scooped her up in his arms and showered his squealing little girl with kisses. “You are the best, my little princess!”

 

“Da!” she exclaimed giggling and he sat her down onto her chair again.

 

Bard then started to set everything for the chocolate sauce while his youngest started cutting off the tops of the muffins. “Be careful Tilda, don’t burn yourself!” Bard instructed and his girl only rolled her eyes, “I do know how to do this …”

 

Bard sighed, “Which is wrong and I truly apologize for my non-presence of kitchen skills. You kids shouldn’t have to help all the time but right now … I have to admit that I’m really glad.”

 

Tilda only shrugged, “You taught us how to improvise, I don’t think that’s a bad thing …” she said absentmindedly, set on cutting the muffins into appealing pieces. Bard didn’t share her optimism on that one though. What would Magda say if she saw them like this? A hair’s breadth away from destroying her big girl’s social status at high school and just barely managing to avoid it? He tried desperately not to think about that and focused on not messing up the chocolate sauce.

 

When Sigrid entered the kitchen about half an hour later, her eyes widened. “Da! I said you should make muffins …” she exclaimed slightly horrified and approached him and Tilda cautiously.

 

“We’re making mini-cakes instead …” Tilda said, kissing her big sister’s cheek, who could not share her sister’s enthusiasm: “But I signed up for muffins, Da!” She looked suspiciously at the tray the two of them were placing the cakes onto to dry.

 

Bard sighed desperately, “We’re making cakes, Sigrid …” he emphasized in defeat.

 

“But …” Sigrid said and Bard already considered this to be a rare occasion for him to use his parental authority and put his daughter into place, but his son averted the same.

 

“Da surely burnt the muffins and now that’s all we had ingredients left for …”

 

“Wrong!” Bard emphasized, “I only burnt the top of the muffins and your sister had the brilliant idea to make mini-cakes because we wouldn’t have ingredients for anything else anymore. Not to mention the time …”

 

Sigrid sighed and let herself fall on one of the chairs dramatically. “I did tell you in advance, Da …”

 

Bard nodded. She had. But he didn’t have the time to do the shopping as last night as there had been a rather urgent case at the garage. And, needless to say, working overtime payed good money which they needed. So no shopping for the bake-sale. But of course she was a teenager and social life was everything nowadays, he supposed.

 

“Listen Sig, I am sorry. And I tried, I really did. But this really is the best possible option … Can you live with it? Because if you can’t I suppose we’re not going there at all … And Bain, don’t even say it!” He was sure that without his interference there would have been a happy chant of “Yay, more for us!” filling their kitchen.

 

After an amount of very uncomfortable silence in the kitchen, Sigrid sighed, “Okay, fine. Fine! Just don’t take the stand next to Legolas Greenleaf and Tauriel or we will look like morons …” She said before she escaped … doubtlessly into the bathroom. Very well! Bard clapped his hands, went back to dipping their _cakes_ into the chocolate, reminding himself that Sig still needed to eat something for breakfast and he himself needed to get dressed – given the fact that he still stood in his boxers and a plain T-shirt in the kitchen.

 

“Bain?”

 

“Yup?” his boy said already with his mouth full of something. At least he ate something for breakfast without being reminded of the same.

 

“Who are Lego...las and Tauriel?”

 

Bain chuckled, “You’ll know them when you see them” came the dubious answer from his son and Bard decided that he would worry about that later. He still had cakes to finish, after all.

 

 

 

As it turned out, his dear male offspring had been right. He did recognize Legolas and Tauriel as soon as he laid eyes upon them. To be fair, there was hardly anywhere else one could be looking instead of them respectively their cake. And really, he had to say that Sigrid had been right too: To call their miserable little chocolate-covered muffin-pieces cakes, meaning using the same word those two did for their work of art was a disgrace to the same. By the time the Bowmans arrived, they had already set up their stall which meant an honest to god, three story cake in plain white, with dark green ornaments that vaguely resembled leaves as well as golden accents in between them. Bard was sure that he had never seen anything like it before just like Tilda, who almost couldn’t tear her eyes off the cake while pulling his sleeve asking, “Da, did you see that?” He only answered, “Yes darling, I did …” while Sigrid scolded her sister for embarrassing her by being too obvious. However, Sigrid wouldn’t have to be worried about them getting a stall next to the one with the masterpiece of a cake – it seemed that Legolas and Tauriel were quite popular. And who could blame anyone for that? Those two students were even more beautiful than their cake, if Bard might say so himself.

 

Thankfully, they quickly reached one of the still empty stalls and Sigrid placed their tray with their bakery onto it, albeit a bit hesitantly. Bard had to admit that it did look a bit … well, shabby was a harsh word but didn’t seem all wrong either. Again it was Tilda who saved the day – and their reputation – by starting to pluck flowers from across the street and arranging them next to their simple tray. In consequence, it didn’t seem that sad anymore and for the umpteenth time that day, Bard thanked his little girl. And soon, the actual sale started whereby, needless to say, they were not overrun. He had the feeling that the few parents who actually bought one or two of their _cakes_ did so because they either knew them personally or because they pitied them. Either way, Bard was happy that they sold at least some of their bakeries and he did not look like a total parental fail.

 

“Sig?” he asked as his daughter had just sold another one of their not-quite muffins.

 

“Yes Da?” she replied by far more conversationally than this morning which Bard sent a prayer to heaven for.

 

“What are we collecting money for again?” he wanted to know.

 

Sigrid predictably sighed, “The Drama Club, Da.”

 

Right, the Drama Club, of course. He nodded, “Right.” Sigrid rolled her eyes. And Bard thought that she had every right to – as she had written the play they were performing this year herself.

 

“Oh my God, Da! What is Tilda doing?” Alarmed, Bard tried to follow his eldest daughter’s gaze which landed on his little one, who apparently had struck up a lively conversation with Tauriel at their stand. Bard did not realize what the dramatic thing about that was.

 

“I believe she is being her usual self and is making new friends …”

 

“But Da!” Sigrid exclaimed as if he was missing the obvious. Was he missing the obvious? “These are Legolas and Tauriel! You don’t just … walk up to them and start talking!”

 

Aha, high school royalty then. He knew about that phenomenon all too well although he himself had never cared about that very much. “Well sweetheart, I suppose no one has told Tilda that …”

 

“Ugh, siblings!” Sigrid sighed and Bard chuckled. Just as he had thought that everything was in order again, she gasped again, “Oh God! They’re coming over …” This time Bard knew better than to chuckle openly. Apparently, his big and responsible daughter wasn’t so immune to high school antics as she always said she was.

 

“Hello Sigrid, hello Mister Bowman”, Tauriel greeted them once she and Tilda had walked up to their stand. Bard only greeted her briefly, albeit friendly as he thought it would be best if Sigrid handled everything. He only might embarrass her further.

 

“Hello Tauriel”, Sigrid greeted, “I already wanted to tell you: You cake looks really great.”

 

The student smiled earnestly and nodded, “It does, although I’m afraid I can take none of the compliments for my own. Legolas did almost everything himself …”

 

Sigrid only smiled and Tauriel did the same. Awkward tension ensued and Bard cleared his throat which was not helping things he supposed. Thankfully, they could always count on Tilda, “Their cake is amazing! It’s green inside! And it tastes so good …” The little girl clapped her hands excitedly and Bard really had to laugh this time. “I’m sure it does …”

 

Sigrid, however, was less amused, “Tilda, please tell me that you didn’t ask them for cake …” The smaller girl only bared her teeth in a partly toothless grin and Sigrid sighed. “I’m so sorry Tauriel, we’ll pay for it of course …”

 

“Yes, we will …” Bard emphasized however still amused but the redhead only shook her head. “No need for that. We struck a deal with Tilda. Legolas gave her one piece of his monster of a cake of which we still have plenty of in exchange for one of your delicious chocolate cakes.” Sigrid only opened her mouth but Tauriel continued, “You see, I myself am more of a chocolate fan but Legolas did prefer marzipan for the covering of the cake. And once he has set his mind on something, he cannot be told otherwise I’m afraid. Stubborn bastard.” She chuckled, “So I would really prefer one of your bakeries and as Tilda had asked, I thought it was a perfect opportunity …”

 

Bard watched the whole exchange in amused awe and as nobody seemed to do anything, he offered the girl their tray, inviting her to take one for Legolas as well. “With cakes like yours around, I doubt that we will sell everything …” he winked and the girl thanked him for the offer, taking two of their half-muffins.

 

“I’ll tell Legolas your compliment, if you don’t mind. He has worked on that enormous thing for three days and he will surely appreciate it …” Bard thought that he was a second away from dropping his tray. Three days? Good Lord …

 

“I certainly do not mind … three days is impressive”, Bard answered truthfully and Tauriel chuckled, “As I said, once he has set his mind on something …”

 

“Did you not help him?” Tilda asked and Bard wanted to scold his little girl for being rude but Tauriel only smiled at her. “He wouldn’t let me as I would most definitely ruin everything. I’m not much use in the kitchen …” Bard chuckled and could relate far too well. “I know how you feel …” he said to the girl who only then had taken a bite of their cake.

 

“Oh I don’t know, Mr. Bowman, I think they taste pretty good …” The father of three thanked her, contemplating if she was only being nice. “Oh, I meant to tell you Sigrid”, the girl continued, “Legolas gave me your play and I think it’s brilliant. I’m looking forward to the performance.” She smiled and his eldest mumbled her thanks, clearly uncomfortable with the compliments.

 

“You are not in the Drama Club?” Bard asked and Tauriel only shook her head, “No, not me. Just Legolas. I’m only helping with the bake-sale …”

 

“Tauriel is on the archery team, Da”, Sigrid said and Bard was happy that she had found her voice again.

 

“Really?” Tilda piped up, “Da was on an archery team once too!”

 

Now Tauriel seemed intrigued, “Truly Mr. Bowman?”

 

Now he was the embarrassed one. His archery career seemed a lifetime away nowadays, “A long time ago, yes.”

 

“He was really good, he even competed in the Oly…Ol…Olympics”, Tilda nodded, clearly satisfied with herself and her ability to pronounce that word foreign to her.

 

“Really?” Tauriel raised her eyebrows an amazement, “What happened?”

 

Yes, what happened, indeed. A question that was surely meant to be conversational triggered an enormous wave of emotion that he clearly wasn’t prepared for. Not at a high school’s bake-sale, for crying out loud. “Ahm …” he started but Sigrid took the initiative, once again being the grown-up girl that she was “Our mother died.”

 

“Oh my God, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean …” Tauriel started but Bard only waved her off. “No harm done. You couldn’t have known …”

 

She nodded, sadness clouding her beautiful features, “I know how it feels though. My parents died too, you know.”

 

“Now it is us who are sorry” Bard said and wondered how on earth they would get out of that spiral again.

 

“Thank you … Well, it was very nice meeting you. And I guess I’ll see you around Sigrid”, the girl said and waved at them before she returned to her and Legolas’ stall.

 

“Well, that was an awkward ending to a very promising conversation …” Bard mused and Sigrid only shook her head, “I didn’t know that. About her parents … I only knew about Legolas’ mother but not that her parents died too …”

 

Bard looked at his daughter, “His mother died too?” ‘ _Well aren’t we a happy bunch?’_ he thought sarcastically.

 

Sigrid nodded, “You know about her too. It was that infamous crime where this guy broke into the Greenleaf mansion, killed the woman and then set the whole house on fire …”

 

Of course he knew. Everybody did. It was the town’s very own tale of horrors: One night a stranger broke into the mansion of the Greenleaf family, the town’s royalty (their ancestors had been counts or dukes or something like that), raped the wife and then killed her while her husband had been cuffed to their bed, forced to witness everything, before he set the whole house on fire. Only by a miracle the husband had escaped, got the little boy and made his way out of the burning building before the whole thing collapsed. After that, they retreated from social life completely – and who on earth could blame them for that? – which probably was why Bard himself hadn’t made the connection with the name Greenleaf immediately.

 

Bard cast a glance to the blonde boy at the other stall. He looked indifferent, cold even, but who could blame him? Nobody should have to suffer what that boy had to suffer through in his childhood. “I didn’t know that he went to school with you … well, that it’s him” Bard said towards Sigrid.

 

“He doesn’t want anybody to speak of it” Bard nodded in understanding, “and I don’t really know him. Nobody does, really. He and Tauriel keep mostly to themselves. Well, and there’s Aragorn and Gimli, but other than that, nobody gets close. Not even in the Drama Club …” his daughter explained. Bard nodded again. If it hadn’t been for his children, it would have been likely that he would have turned his back onto the town and its people as well after Magda had died all those years ago.

 

“It’s really sad …” Tilda mused and plucked a strand of her wild hair behind her ear.

 

“It is, my darling. But let’s not be brought down by it all: Look, we’ve already sold more than half of our degenerated muffins …” Tilda laughed and even Sigrid chuckled and nodded. “And Bain will eat the rest …” his eldest concluded. “Speaking of which, where has he disappeared to?” Bard asked.

 

“I think he went with some of his friends back to the soccer field to play a little …” Sigrid said just as, if on cue, the sound of breaking glass was heard. Bard only sighed.

 

 

All things considered, the bake sale had been quite a success and the Drama Club now had money to buy new props and in consequence, were able to perform the play his eldest had written. To say Bard was proud would be an understatement – even though he still had no clue what the play was even about. Sigrid tended to be very secretive of that one. To add to that doubtless parental pride it increased Sigrid’s chances for getting a scholarship for college exponentially, which, needless to say, was also a very good thing. However with half of the school year over, talk of the prom got louder and even if Sigrid insisted that she didn’t have to go “Because nobody has asked me anyway and I think it’s stupid” he didn’t want his daughter to miss out. But of course, she needed a gown for the occasion and therefore, the following weekend was spent with touring through various clothing stores, much to their shared dislike. Nobody of them really relished in prolonged shopping trips. At least Bain and Tilda entertained themselves with trying on the most ridiculous (and way too big) stuff while he and his eldest and much too grown-up daughter tried to pick a suitable dress. And whilst the dark-haired man wanted his girl to have the most beautiful dress that they could find, he was not more than a mechanic – a moderately payed one, no less. Therefore, his means were limited. Plus, he didn’t know a single thing about ball gowns. It was moments like this where he most desperately wished Magda was still with them. Granted, they had gotten better at certain things like their daily routines or improvising at bake-sales even, but not with this. Never with stuff like this …

Still, Bard faked all the enthusiasm that he supposed he should muster. And so he looked at each dress that his dear Sigrid tried on and did his best to give an honest as well as nice as well as reasonable comment on them all whilst seeing to Bain and Tilda keeping close to them and not bringing chaos upon the whole store. By the time he had just turned around and wanted to scold them for being too loud – and why on earth did Bain have diving glasses on his head? More importantly, since when? – both stopped dead in their tracks and looked in his direction. At first, he had thought that it was one of those rare occasions of parental authority again, but soon realized that they looked over his shoulder, not at him. And as he turned around, he was sure that he had the same look on his face: Sigrid, who wore a mid-blue dress, had stepped out of the dressing room again and by God, she was beautiful. Bard had to gulp because how could he have missed how good-looking his little girl had become? Sure, usually she wore jeans and T-Shirts to school, but one couldn’t miss a development like that, right?

 

“Sig, you look like a princess …” Tilda exclaimed, waving a scarf she was carrying around in the air pointlessly but probably princess-like. Sigrid blushed and looked down on her feet whilst Bain first whistled before he called out: “Too bad she’s missing the prince!”

 

“BAIN!” Bard scolded his son whilst Sigrid only rolled her eyes at him. Tilda however, did have a far more practical approach to the whole thing: “Who needs a prince when you look like this?! You can very well go on your own, Sigrid.” Again, she grinned toothily at her sister.

 

“Absolutely right, my darling”, Bard encouraged and he walked over to his daughter. “Sigrid, you look absolutely beautiful, my darling daughter.” He kissed her on top of her head and she giggled. “Thanks Da, but …”

 

“What? What is it?” he wanted to know.

 

“I think it’s too expensive …” She mused and as Bard cast a glance onto the price tag, he had to gulp. Indeed, it was not cheap. Sigrid, attentive as she was, noticed it immediately and started a tirade about how she didn’t need the dress and only wanted to try such a thing on for once, but Bard raised his hand. “We’ll take it …”

 

“What?” Sigrid exclaimed happily and with gleaming eyes.

 

Bard took a deep breath, “We’ll take it. We can manage. Now, you go change back again; Bain and Tilda? You return that arsenal of useless stuff that you’ve collected and we’ll meet at the cash desk, alright?”

 

Sigrid hugged him closely, adding “Thanks Da!” happily before she disappeared into the dressing room again. As Bard slowly walked towards the cash desk, he thought he had made a good decision. So what if the dress was expensive? He could work overtime and compensate. At least he could make his brave girl happy. And if that wasn’t worth a few hours of extra work …

 

 

As soon as they had returned home with the blue dress, a sulking Bain who wanted something for himself as well and an eye-rolling Tilda who decided to stay in their garden right away, Bard immediately saw that something to eat got on their table. “Da, I can do it. It’s the least …” Sigrid had started but Bard had raised his hand and said that the only thing he wanted “in exchange” for the dress was that she kept up her good grades and should rather study than help him in the kitchen. Already planning the upcoming extra hours at work that he hoped The Master, as they called him, would allow him to structure most of himself it took him about an hour to get something that vaguely resembled pasta onto the table. “Bain! Sigrid! … Dinner’s ready!” he called out to the upper floor sure that Bain would be in his room as well. He opened the kitchen window that looked out at the larger part of the garden and called for his youngest before he set glasses and a pitcher of water onto the table, Sigrid already arriving in the kitchen. Bard smiled at her as he placed a huge bowl of salad on the table as well before he tied his hair back into a hopefully more organized bun than the previous one. He really should get a haircut …

As Bain arrived, Sigrid put a little salad on each of their plates while Bard did the same with the noodles. “Da! Did you not mix them with the sauce…?” Bain whined and Bard rolled his eyes.

 

“No Bain, I did not. Tilda doesn’t like it when I do that and therefore, we make it like this. You can mix them on your own plate as much as you like …” the father explained while he put the pan with the tomato sauce on the table. Bain rolled his eyes and after an “I saw that, young man …” Bard wondered aloud where Tilda was. Usually, his youngest one was the first at the table as she wanted to prevent her sauce touching any of the other things on her plate. Bard was sure it was a phase …

 

“Oh my GOD!” Sigrid exclaimed.

 

“What? What is it?!!” Bard wanted to know immediately, already on his way to the door in sheer parental panic.

 

Bain however chuckled which caused the level of Bard’s fatherly alarm subside a little. “Tilda seems to charm the royalty …”

 

“WHAT?!” Bard exclaimed and now made his way over to the window as well.

 

“Tilda is talking to Legolas Greenleaf … in our garden. What is he doing in our garden?” Sigrid said, half in wonder half in teenage panic. Bard, finally arriving at the window and looking over the shoulders of his two children, only raised his eyebrow at the picture. Tilda sat on one of the swings that Bard had built for his kids, the blonde-haired boy on the other one. Tilda had her head stuck attentively towards the older boy, completely unimpressed and therefore the complete opposite of her sister, listening to Legolas intently and sometimes saying a thing or two.

 

“Well …” Bard stared, “As I do not want to burn anything – again – and therefore we should start eating, I think we should invite him in …?” Bain only snickered and Sigrid looked at him with horror in her eyes. “What?” she exclaimed.

 

Bard raised his hands in a defensive manner, “I mean I am only going to ask, maybe he’ll decline …”

 

“Da!” Sigrid exclaimed but Bard could not decipher what exactly she wanted to convey through her statement.

 

“Sig, I cannot tell him to piss off now can I?” Cursing in front of his kids, good job Bard!

 

“Da, Swear Glass!” Bain shouted almost jovially and Bard nodded. “Yeah, yeah … I know …” before he dug around in his jeans pocket for the right amount of coins and dropping them into the swear glass that stood in their kitchen and making his way to the door.

 

“Tilda? … Oh, hello … Legolas, is it?” Bard smiled and played dumb. Sometimes, it was the most effective way of dealing with things. It was way better than asking what the fuck this teenage boy did on the swing in his garden, not to mention less rude. He just hoped that they hadn’t seen them lurking by the kitchen window.

The blonde seemed really frightened by Bard’s voice, as he jumped up from the swing. Tilda however kept dangling her legs down smiling at him. “Hello Da …” she happily replied as if it wasn’t a rare occurrence that the high school’s royalty was on their swings.

 

“Yes, Mr. Bowman, it is Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf. … And I want to apologize for being so rude and just entering your garden …” the blonde boy started off well-mannered.

 

“I invited him in …” Tilda interjected and ginned mischievously.

 

“I see …” Bard said and smiled, “No need to apologize Legolas …” he tried to comfort the boy who was literally backing up against the street already.

 

“Still, it was thoughtless. I should be going anyway … Good bye Tilda, Mr. Bowman …” the teen said and Bard could practically feel his eldest girl exhale behind the curtains of their kitchen window.

 

Tilda quite suddenly pulled on his sleeve and Bard knelt down before her. Before he could ask what the matter was, she hissed, “Invite him for dinner Da!”

 

“Darling I don’t think that Sig would be …” he started but his youngest didn’t let him finish.

 

“I found him leaning on our fence from the outside … _crying_ , Da. He is not happy, please invite him in …” he explained hastily. Bard frowned but knew he had lost the battle against Tilda’s pleading, blue, big puppy dog eyes.

 

“Legolas!” he heard himself calling and somehow felt sorry for his eldest already. The blonde turned around and it was only then that Bard noticed the slightly hanging shoulders of the boy. “We were just about to have dinner … Would you like to join us?”

 

The blonde teenager seemed as taken aback by the offer as he felt. “Please?” Tilda piped up beneath Bard and Legolas opened his mouth but no sound came out. “Please?” Tilda asked again and the blonde seemed to have an equally hard time to refuse those two pleading blue globes which is why, not five minutes later, Tilda stopped Bard form applying sauce to Legolas’ noodles because “He’s a vegetarian, Da!” Sigrid’s eyes shot up silently asking how on earth her little sister got to know this in about half an hour. Said vegetarian did not know where to cast his eyes but settled them on the plate in front of him, containing only noodles for the moment.

 

“Oh! Well …” Bard stood helplessly about with the pan. “I seems that I have promised too much for dinner, I suppose …” He chuckled nervously and could basically feel Sigrid turning to an even deeper shade of red than she already was.

 

“This is fine, Mr. Bowman …” the boy said but it was Bain who had the most helpful of ideas: “I’m growing basil for my biology assignment …” he exclaimed and had already jumped up from his seat, “Wait!” he shouted and ran upstairs to return not a minute later with a quite impressive amount of basil in a flower pot. When did Bain start to grow that stuff? Bard scolded himself for not being as up to date on his children’s school work as he probably should be.

However, Legolas thanked him plentiful and started picking a few leaves which he then applied to the noodles. Tilda offered him various herbs and Bain even encouraged him to take some more basil.

 

“I would not want to ruin your project Bain …” Legolas hesitated but Bain only shrugged, “A few leaves won’t go amiss. Also, it is only due in a few weeks, they’ll grow again.”

 

“But basil is really difficult to grow … I tried it once but failed miserably”, the blonde admitted, obviously really glad that the situation had at least somewhat gone back to normal and he wasn’t the weird outsider who had just been found in the garden anymore.

 

“It’s all about the watering …” Bain explain before he stuffed some noodles (with tomato sauce and many meatballs because he was Bain) into his mouth. “I can show you once, if you’d like …” the boy offered and probably got the first real smile of the boy. “That would be great actually, if you don’t mind …”

 

“Not at all. We’ll meet sometime … Maybe we could even use the biology classroom at school … or you could come over again …” Bain mused, clearly – but subtly – teasing his sister, whose eyes shot up from her pasta. “When did you even get an expert on growing herbs?”

 

“When you were busy writing that reclusive play of yours, sister dear …” Bain grinned at her.

 

“Guys, please …” Bard warned them but Tilda backed her brother up quite surprisingly: “It was really re-reclu-sive? Because I wasn’t even allowed to go into her side of the room while she wrote it …” She told no one in particular but quite accusingly so.

 

Sigrid scoffed, “You make me look like the worst sister ever …”

 

It was like a kick to Bard’s stomach and a not-at-all pleasant reminder that he laid a much too big amount of responsibility on his eldest daughter. Since Magda had died five years ago, Sigrid had taken over as the female authority in their house which Bard was immensely thankful for. It was only natural that she wanted a little bit of privacy now and then …

 

“That’s not true Sig, and you know it …” Bain said with a mouth full of noodles.

 

“Bain, no talking with your mouth full please!” Bard said and Tilda nodded “It’s disgusting. I can see half a meat ball in there …”

 

Sigrid wrinkled her nose and Bard thought he heard a faint trace of snicker on the side of their guest. Still, he replied, “Thanks for that vivid image darling. Anyway: Sigrid surely had a good reason for not telling us what her play was about and we will accept that. Right?” Bain and Tilda nodded. “Good.”

 

Legolas smiled at Sigrid and probably looked at her properly for the first time that evening. “I get it. And you three are going to love it …”

 

Sigrid, despite her teenage-embarrassment of having the high school’s royalty sitting at their messy dinner table, smiled at Legolas. “Thank you. It’s very nice of you to say that …”

 

Legolas grinned, “It’s true. And the play’s brilliant … You’ll see”, he told the other Bowman’s.

 

Suddenly Bain’s eyes lit up: “Right, you’re in the Drama Club … so you have a copy of the play. Would you mind trading it, for let say, basil?”

 

Bard rolled his eyes while Sigrid shouted “Don’t you dare!” (at Bain, Bard supposed) while Tilda only looked at their guest with huge eyes, probably measuring how he could persuade him to braid her hair. The boy did have beautiful hair, Bard had to admit that and again thought about his messy bun. Legolas however only chuckled, “I would rather stick to simple noodles”, which had all of them chuckle in return.

 

Quite soon after that, Legolas excused himself, not before thanking them all profusely for the dinner invitation. As Bard still didn’t know more about the crying that Tilda had mentioned earlier, he only offered that their door was always open if he wanted to pay them a visit, eat a chaotic meal or grow basil with Bain. Somehow, he had the feeling that Legolas had understood. Still, as Bard did the dishes (which Legolas had offered to help with but Bard had refused – seriously, he could not have a Duke or whatever clean their patched together china on his first visit; his late wife would get a heart attack) he reminded himself that he had to talk to Tilda about the whole affair again.

 

Which he did as soon as he put her to bed. Thankfully, she was already waiting in her pajamas, sitting on top of her fluffy blanket and clutching her plush dragon to her chest. “Ah, you’re already waiting, you good little girl …” he said as he bowed over her and hugged her tightly, lifting her up slightly. Tilda giggled and squealed as he did so and firmly planted herself against her father as he lay down beside her. Bard stroke her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Tilda darling, I want to ask you something …”

 

“What is it?” she muffled into his chest while she let the orange dragon wander over his belly.

 

Bard, all too aware of Sigrid reading on her own bed, cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you again how you met Legolas today …” he trailed off and didn’t want to mention the crying right away as he already felt Sigrid shifting her attention from the book to them. It was really weird what superpowers you developed when you were a parent.

 

“He was nice, right?” Tilda whispered and Bard nodded truthfully – he _had been_ nice – but still nudged Tilda back into the direction of the meeting.

 

“Well, I was out playing by Ma’s tree …” his youngest started and Bard nodded. Strangely all the children enjoyed staying close to the huge magnolia tree Magda had planted when she had gotten the diagnosis. Cancer. Terminal. As she was already pregnant with Tilda, the doctor’s didn’t even suggest chemo therapy. She had only lasted until Tilda had been eight months. As soon as she had known that she wouldn’t be around to see her little girl grow up, she had gotten that tree since she had always wanted a magnolia tree and had Bard give her his promise that once she had been cremated, the kids and him should put her ashes under the tree and water it until all of it had sunken into the ground. “So I can always be there and keep you company …” she had said with a smile and a wink. Bard had thought that the children would avoid the tree like the plague – like he had done – but no, Sigrid had always taken a book outside with her and sat either under the tree or climbed up the same while Bain usually built some town consisting of sticks and stones under the leaves. And as soon as Tilda was able to move, she dragged herself on all fours to the tree, probably because her siblings always spent time there and if Tilda wouldn’t sleep, Bard had often been standing at his bedroom window and looked with her at the tree, inventing the wildest tales about her mother and how she had turned into that tree. And somehow along the way, he learned not to avoid the same like the plague.

 

“Are you listening, Da?” Tilda looked at him with her little eyebrows knitted together.

 

“Sorry sweetheart” Bard shook the memories off, “I’m listening now …”

 

“Good”, the girl seemed satisfied, “I said that while I was playing by the tree, I heard some sniffling and at first I thought it was Domi from next door but then I looked over our fence and saw that it was him. And I think I exclaimed something like “Oh, the cake-man!” …” Bard had to chuckle at that one and Sigrid let her book sink down onto her lap, sighing, “… and he looked at me and then I saw that he was crying. And then I asked him what was wrong and he didn’t say so I told him to come in because if Alfrid saw him on one of his patrols he would probably have us arrested for making people cry or something like that …”

 

“Very wise”, Bard concluded and already shuddered at the thought of going back to the garage tomorrow morning.

 

“So he came in and we sat down on the swings. Because swings always make me happy and I told him that so we sat down and started swinging. And then I asked him again what the matter was and he told me that he had a fight with his Da …”

 

Bard raised an eyebrow at Sigrid in question who only shrugged, “I only saw him like once. And there everybody was fawning over him because he’s … Well, he’s really pretty. And a single father …” Sigrid emphasized and Bard only groaned. Yes, he was aware of the _attention_ of _The Mothers_ , as he had taken to call them. Not a good place to let his thoughts wander to. There were hands in places that he wasn’t sure how they managed to get there … “Plus, he’s rich …” Bard said and Sigrid nodded. “I see …”

 

“As I said, he only came to see Legolas’ compete in the archery competition and as soon as he won, he left again. I don’t think they left together …” Sigrid elaborated and Bard now raised both of his eyebrows. “Did he not attend the play last year?” Bard vaguely remembered seeing Legolas on stage.

 

Sigrid shook her head, “No, he didn’t. As I said, I don’t know but I think they are not on the best of terms …”

 

“Pity”, Bard mused and could not imagine the relationship with his children being any different than it was today: Snuggling up with his youngest, a plush dragon dancing on his belly. As chaotic as it was, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“Legolas said that his father didn’t want him to study acting and …” Tilda wrinkled her nose in concentration, “Something else, I forgot. His Da said that he wouldn’t pay for acting and that Legolas was an … ungrade? I don’t know what that means though …” Tilda explained further.

 

Sigrid chuckled, “You mean an ingrate. It means that somebody is ungrateful for what had been offered or given to them …”

 

“Aha, I see … I don’t think that he is an ingrate though. He just wants to study what interests him. That’s not wrong, is it Da?” Tilda asked.

 

“Absolutely not my darling. Without wanting to say something bad about Mr. Greenleaf because we don’t know the full story of their fight, I want to say that it is never wrong to do what you feel is right for you. You know I wouldn’t react like Legolas’ father presumably did, don’t you?” Bard couldn’t understand why certain parents wanted to make something out of their children they themselves did not want. That was one thing he and Magda had always agreed upon: The kids needed to be happy. Nothing else could be more important than this.

 

“Yes Da”, Sigrid smiled and Tilda nodded into his shoulder.

 

“Good”, Bard said and kissed Tilda’s head. “Now, it’s time for bed, my darling.” His little girl scooted under the covers that Bard tucked in around her and gave her another kiss on the cheek. Then he went over to Sigrid, bid her goodnight too and told her not to read for too long anymore. She smiled and kissed his cheek, again thinking him for the blue dress. Bard also ruffled her hair a little, something that he was nowadays only allowed to do before she got to bed, and left the room. Thankfully, Tilda wasn’t picky when it came to sleeping with somebody else’s bedside lamp on. After checking on Bain and his plants – yes, plural, there was like an arsenal and again, how could he have missed that? – for his biology project he retired to his own room. Somehow, the Greenleaf’s kept his mind occupied for quite some time. What fight could be so horrible that the son fled through half the town (the Greenleaf estate literally was on the other side of town) and felt miserable enough to be invited for dinner by people he barely knew? Groaning, Bard rolled over to the other side of his creaking and much too empty bed. He needed to sleep and not busy himself with other people’s problems. One could say that they had enough of their own as it was. However and without relishing in some other family’s misery, it somehow comforted him that apparently, money wasn’t the solution for everything.

 

 

They days went by and turned into weeks. Sigrid was busy with the preparations for “her” play as the members of the Bowman-household liked to call it and Sigrid by now didn’t even bother to correct them anymore (“It is a team-production!” she used to say). Bard supported Bain with his biology project and planned a bed for his herbs that, as he had emphasized towards Bard, he would continue growing even after the assignment was finished. And as the desk in his room was practically exploding with flower pots already, Bard could very well make a bed in the garden. Bain was ecstatic and Bard wondered how long this fascination with herbs would last. But, he supposed, they could always use a bed of herbs which was why they started looking for a suitable place in the garden – not an easy task, as it turned out. Some places were too sunny, others too shadowy, others too windy. But eventually, they figured out the perfect place … so far, so good. Now they only needed to buy the proper materials. Bard already braced himself inwardly for another odyssey that he happily took part in if it meant that his son was happy. Tilda was at the moment the most content, assuring him that she was fine if Bard got struck with feelings of guilt that he used so much of his already quite reduced free time.

Between home and the extra hours he spent at work in order to pay off Sigrid’s dress, there wasn’t much time for thinking about other things. Therefore, it came to him as a huge surprise that he found Legolas standing in front of their door, in the pouring rain, way after midnight on a Wednesday night with eyes so red that Bard had to restrain himself from taking him to the hospital immediately.

 

“Mr. Bowman … I – I’m so sorry …” the teenage boy started but Bard waved him off. “Come on in before you catch your death …” he said to which the blonde nodded thankfully in advance. After the instruction to be as quiet as possible in order not to wake anyone, he showed the boy to their bathroom after handing him some of his old clothes which would surely be too big (and too shabby) for Legolas but who cared? Legolas certainly didn’t and thankfully, his eldest was already asleep and would not wake. Should Bard wake her? What on earth was he supposed to do with a crying teen in his bathroom who wasn’t even his own? No one prepared a parent for situations like that …

 

_Why on earth wasn’t there a book about stuff like that? A parental guide for weird and absolutely unforeseeable situations like this one … Why had nobody thought of that? I am going to write one … And make a fortune and then I won’t have to work in this shitty garage anymore …_

 

His (unreasonable and panicky) stream of thoughts was interrupted by Legolas appearing in the kitchen. He actually appeared for Bard had not heard a single sound except the one coming from the shower. “Mr. Bowman, I really must apologize for me intruding like this … at this hour no less …”

 

Bard only smiled at him, “You surely have a good reason to come to us, of all places. Take a seat”, he motioned to the one next to his at the huge table that was swamped with plans for Bain’s herb bed. “Do you want some tea?” Bard offered and Legolas only nodded, damp hair braided and lain over his shoulder. As Bard set up the kettle, he asked, “Do you want me to wake Sigrid?” He recalled that his daughter had talked about interacting some more with Legolas at their rehearsals as Legolas didn’t withdraw from the others that much anymore, which earned her a snarky comment from Bain that she “luuuuved” Legolas. Sigrid had only hit her brother with the newspaper over the head – something that Bard had only scolded her for mildly.

 

Legolas cleared his throat as Bard put teabags into two respective cups. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you Mr. Bowman …” the teenage boy said quite insecurely.

 

Bard whipped around “At this hour?” he exclaimed without really meaning to and quickly motioned for Legolas to stay seated as he looked about to bolt into the night right away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Surely, you had another time of day in mind and it just inconveniently became … well, now, right?”

 

Legolas nodded and sighed. The sad little lump at their dinner table did not resemble the almost majestic student who had sold cake as Bard couldn’t help but notice. “My father and I had a huge fight …” he started, “… and it wasn’t that he actually kicked me out. He would never but … I just couldn’t be under the same roof for another second …” Legolas said and Bard noticed how the boy curled his hands into fists. “And Tauriel isn’t home tonight and I really had nowhere else to go …”

 

Bard sat down at the table again and hoped that he didn’t overstep the line by laying a hand down on Legolas’ shoulder. “As I said, you’re more than welcome anytime. Would you like to tell me what this fight with your father was about?” Bard asked carefully as they had to start somewhere he supposed.

 

The dark-haired man saw tears well up in the teenager’s eyes again. “He can’t stand what I am …”

 

Bard had to gulp at that. What did that even mean? Legolas was clearly a bright, well-mannered, good-looking if slightly introverted guy. What on earth was wrong with that? “Is this about your studies? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry but Tilda told me about …”

 

The blonde only shook his head. “No it isn’t about that …” In exactly that instant, the kettle signaled that their water was boiling so Bard got up and poured each of them a mug of herbal tea, that Legolas accepted thankfully. “You were saying …” Bard encouraged the teen to continue.

 

“Right”, Legolas said and blushed. Why on earth did he blush? “I am sorry for asking this in such a blunt way, Mr. Bowman, but … ahem … Sigrid once told me about you and … uhm, I was wondering … if maybe I could ask you …”

 

Did the boy actually start sweating? “Legolas it’s fine, you can ask me just about anything.” Bard tried to soothe him because he didn’t want another one’s teenage boy getting a panic attack in his kitchen. He took as sip of his tea.

 

“Ah … Well, I wanted to ask you how you … ah, how you realized that you were into boys as well.”

 

Bard literally spat the tea over the table and in consequence over the plans he had drawn so carefully not two hours ago. Legolas jumped back but Bard raised his hands again, “Sorry … sorry.  That was my fault. Never mind …” Bard cleared his throat. Tomorrow he would have a serious chat with his eldest daughter about what on earth she told practical strangers about him but now, he had a supposedly very confused and angry teenager sitting at his desk who had to be dealt with.

 

“I’m so terribly sorry Mr. Bowman, I shouldn’t have said anything …” Legolas again started with his seemingly endless stream of apologies.

 

Bard took a deep breath. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his bisexuality, not at all … Still it was weird to be called out on it from a boy he had seen thrice in his life in a situation like the one they currently found themselves in.

 

“You just took me by surprise, that’s all. Don’t worry about it. … Well, how did I know I was into boys as well as girls was the question I believe?” Legolas nodded shyly. “Right. Well, when I was about fourteen, I had this huge crush on a girl in my neighborhood. Nothing unusual there. With sixteen I had my first girlfriend and we were together for almost a year. When we broke up, I was very distracted. Teenage drama and everything … sorry”, Bard remembered who he was sitting opposite of but Legolas only smiled, “… and as a consequence of my absentmindedness I crashed my Da’s car.” The eyebrows of the boy shot up, “Yeah … that wasn’t good. At all. I had to bring it to the local garage and, as he expected me to pay for the damage, I started working there after school. Which is where I got to meet Fred. He was a few years older than me and therefore way cooler.” Legolas chuckled, “He showed me around and explained everything I needed to know. And at first I thought I simply admired him … but slowly I realized that I felt the same things for him than I did for the two girls I had romantic feelings for. And that was it I guess …”

 

Legolas nodded, deep in thought, “And your father was … He accepted it?”

 

Bard shrugged, “Nothing happened with Fred. I just realized that I could feel the same things for boys as I did for girls. But afterwards there were also boys and my parents didn’t really care …” Legolas nodded again, twisting the teabag in his hand. As the silence stretched itself, Bard laid his hand again on the boy’s shoulder, “Is that why you ran away from home? Because your father doesn’t accept your bisexuality?”

 

Legolas shook his head, tears already streaming down his face, “I – I’m not … bisexual. I think … I-I think that I’m gay …” He stuttered and sobbed silently. Bard nodded in understanding and started rubbing (hopefully) soothing circles onto the back of the teenager. “I see”, Bard said after some time, “and you told your father and he doesn’t accept it.”

 

Legolas chuckled bitterly, “It’s not only that … He … He said that …” the boy pressed his eyes together, “That I have to marry a girl. That I owed it to my family and bloodline to …” A sob escaped Legolas’ throat, “It was the first time”, he whispered, “the first time I ever said it out loud and he …”

 

The tears started flowing again and this time, Bard did nothing to try and stop them as he knew it was useless. He surely wasn’t a guy that judged quickly, but he started to dislike that Greenleaf-father more and more.

 

“Listen Legolas: No matter what your father might think, you are very brave. It isn’t easy for anybody to admit such a thing, even more to one’s parents.” He flinched at his choice of words, well aware that the teen only had his father left. “Maybe your father only needs time. It surely isn’t easy for him either …” Bard tried to soothe the teenager but he only chuckled bitterly. “Of course, the world has made it its utmost priority to make his life miserable. I know … Nobody else suffers, only him …” Bard looked at Legolas in a deeply caring way as he could relate – at least to a certain degree. “I lost her too …” Legolas said more to himself than to Bard.

 

Bard decided that this didn’t go anywhere as he didn’t know neither Mr. Greenleaf senior nor his motives or beliefs. So he started another topic: “Legolas, you don’t have to answer me of course, but … Is there somebody? Somebody who has triggered this?”

 

The blonde sighed but nodded eventually, “Yes. Yes, there is. His name is Aragorn, he goes to our school as well …”

 

Bard nodded. He was sure he had heard the name before, probably Sigrid had mentioned him. “Is he in the Drama Club as well?”

 

Legolas chuckled bitterly, “No, he isn’t. He’s in the creative writing class though …”

 

“Ah, I see …” Bard said and nodded.

 

“I only know him because … because he sometimes helps with the plays. So we met a couple of times but that was it …”

 

Bard nodded. If that didn’t sound like his own tale of crushes. “So I suppose you haven’t talked to him about it then …”

 

The blonde seemed horrified at only the thought of it. “Of course not! He’s not even gay! And I couldn’t … it doesn’t even matter now because I … because I have to … to …” Oh dear, the sobs again.

 

“What is it?” Bard asked.

 

Legolas took a deep breath, “My father said that I had to marry someone who was picked right after I finish college …”

 

“WHAT?!” Bard exclaimed. That could not be true, surely. This was like the dark ages.

 

Legolas chuckled bitterly, “As I said, I couldn’t stay under the same roof for another second …”

 

Now it was Bard who took a deep breath and another sip of his tea. “Alright … Alright. Now, I want to tell you something Legolas without wanting to overstep the according line as I am only the father of one of your school mates, but: Your father cannot force you to do anything you don’t want. I mean, what’s the worst thing he can do, disown you?”

 

Legolas shrugged, “Not a problem. I got a fund from my mother where I would at least have some money for getting a flat or something for college.”

 

Bard smiled at the boy, “See, so you can study whatever you want. That’s a good place to start. And you could always get a part time job to pay the bills. And it will be a few years before you finish college and maybe your father will come around.” Legolas snorted, “You can never know. Sometimes people only need time … What is more important at the moment, however, is how you get to get that Aragorn to know how you feel …” Bard grinned at Legolas’ groan. Oh yes, teenage drama at its best.

 

“There is no way, believe me … I’ve thought about it. At length … He’s not gay …” Legolas whispered.

 

Bard curled his lips, more to himself than at Legolas. “Legolas, let me give you a piece of advice from somebody who has been in your situation more than once: You can never know that. There once was this guy in college who had been quite the ladies’ man, or so it seemed. Once night I was at this party and was about to go home, when I saw him, drunk beyond believe and I walked him to his dorm because he would have never made it otherwise. He literally begged me to stay, so I did. He was already half-asleep anyway. So I stayed on the couch. Next morning, I awoke to the guy literally jumping me because he assumed that he had taken me home the other night and simply couldn’t remember … it. I was shocked, to say the least … He was confused because I had settled on the couch.” Legolas chuckled and Bard added, “Please don’t tell my children about this … I need to maintain the little amount of parental authority that I have left.”

 

The teen chuckled, “Duly noted.”

 

Bard grinned. At least he wasn’t crying anymore … “I’m not saying that it is like that with anybody, just that you can never be sure. Maybe … Maybe you and your friends can take him to some social thing, a party, the cinema, whatever. And you get to know him better … Maybe an opportunity will present itself.” Bard smiled encouragingly.

 

Legolas shrugged again, “It won’t. He has this girlfriend, Arwen. They have been together like forever … I know her and is was really nice so I could never even attempt something without feeling bad. And it's’ fine, seriously. I don’t mind and I will get over it, I’m sure. …  Anyway, thank you for … well, everything.”

 

Bard shook his head, “Nothing to be thankful for. I meant it when I said our door is open any time …”

 

“Literally”, Legolas grinned and Bard chuckled, “Still, thank you. You’re more of a father to me than my own. Your children can consider themselves lucky …”

 

Bard had to gulp. Seriously, how thick could you be as a parent? Bard truly did not consider himself to be the father of the month, quite the contrary, actually … But if your son trusted you enough to come out to you, you simply couldn’t react the way that Greenleaf did, could you? Still, not wanting to talk bad about Legolas’ father, Bard said again, “As I said, maybe he only needs time … But if you want to talk or something like that … or even need a place to stay”, he added as an afterthought, “I want you to know that you can always come here.” Legolas smiled gratefully, “Now, we should settle you somewhere so that you can get a few hours of sleep … you and me both …”

 

After Bard had successfully made a quite unprofessional bed for their guest on their sofa in the living room, he got up to go to bed as well. Sighing he looked at his alarm clock: 02:08 a.m. Great!

 

 

Bard awoke to the shriek of his eldest daughter and panicky jumped off the bed and was already way down to the living room before he recalled that they had a guest that nobody but himself was aware of yet. Well, that was not true, Sigrid was as of now. As Bard arrived, both teenagers stared at each other, both rather uncomfortable. Bain was already at the stairs, shouting down “What happened?” to which Bard replied that it was nothing. Tilda still hurried down the stairs exclaiming happily as she saw the blonde sitting on their couch. “Legolas!” she chanted before she hopped onto the couch. The blonde however did not share her enthusiasm and looked a bit like a deer in the headlights. “Legolas is here? Since when …?” Bain wanted to know from the top of the stairs, “He hasn’t stayed with Sig, has he?”

Sigrid already took a deep breath for a tirade, but Bard thought it would be wise to step in:

“No, he has not. As you know now, we have a guest … Could you kids please get some breakfast going while I get a quick shower? My morning routine is a bit off the hook … Then you can go to the bathroom while I’m making you guys lunch. Deal?” After four – right, they were four – chants of “Deal” were heard at various levels of motivation, Bard nodded to himself and got to the bathroom, where he was as quick with his morning routine as possible. During his shower, the alarm in his room went off, which caused a stream of curses on his part as he hopped out of the shower, dripping wet, opening the door only slightly and tried to outshout the device: “Can somebody PLEASE turn that OFF?!!!”

“Done!” came Sigrid’s call after only a few seconds which he was immensely thankful for. After he had finished his more than quick morning routine, he returned to a kitchen with dripping wet hair. What he saw there, however, startled him: Legolas was at the oven, making pancakes and instructing Tilda how long they needed to stay in the pan while Bain carried cornflakes, milk and orange juice to the table that Sigrid was setting. Also, he smelled coffee. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my children?” Bard called out jokingly to which Sigrid and Bain only rolled their eyes. Tilda was way too busy focusing on the pancakes. Bard poured himself a mug of coffee before sat down at the table, to which Legolas and Tilda were carrying their pancakes not long after. The dark-haired mechanic was certain that everything had been the result of their guest, but thought better as to make a joke about adopting Legolas. This surely would not go well with his current turmoil …

Somehow, they managed to get everyone to school in time, Legolas in some of Bard’s old clothes, his still quite damp ones in a plastic bag that he had taken with him. The Bowman-household could not afford a dryer which was quite convenient actually because they wouldn’t have space for it left anyway. That Bard got to the garage on time was something he considered to be a quite welcome miracle.

 

Even if Bard had refrained from jokingly adopting Legolas, the events of the next weeks pointed towards that exact happening. More often than not the blonde teenage boy would accompany Sigrid home from school, rehearsing the play or doing something else entirely, until Legolas returned to his father really late – if ever. To find the blonde on their sofa in the morning was quickly becoming a constant in their lives. And with Legolas, Tauriel too became a frequent visitor, just like a constantly grumpy but still warm-hearted and kind rascal called Gimli and – surprisingly – Aragorn, a quiet but really smart and wise guy. Bard often returned to a home bustling with people and found that he rather liked it. He had always been under the impression that the three of them managed pretty well all things considered – and he still thought that they had – but only now that there were constantly other people in his house, he realized that they had, in fact, lived quite closed off in their little bubble. And that the bubble was slowly bursting was a good thing. He often stood by the kitchen window and watched Bain discuss endlessly with Gimli how to structure the herb bed that Bard, Bain and later on Gimli had built. Aragorn too had offered to help but Gimli had waved him off immediately muttering, “Go back to your poems …” which the teen had done. Apparently, he was constantly writing poems and short stories for Arwen and Bard was sad to admit it, but he really didn’t see a high chance for him and Legolas getting together anytime soon. Bard thought Aragorn was the picture of the dreamy writer he would doubtlessly become. Everybody agreed on it – and as he was about to study literature, Aragorn and Sigrid were looking for university programs and corresponding flats together. Which too was great. So Bard truly was happy about the bunch he currently housed and did not care if everything got at least twice as chaotic as before.

 

Everything seemed to progress just splendidly, Sigrid coming out of her shell too, Bain feeling very cool as he knew so many of the older students at his high school, and Tilda relishing in her extended cooking and baking lessons with Legolas – not to mention the braiding. Somehow along the way Tilda had asked Legolas about his artistic hairstyles and once he had offered to show her and try one on her, the mind of Bard’s smallest was set on the mastery of that skill.

One Friday evening mid-May, Legolas’ voice hollered through the Bowman house as they told him that it was useless to knock anymore. “Sigrid …?” They were just having dinner and the addressed girl called out that they were in the kitchen. As Legolas entered the same quite breathlessly but still looking splendidly – and seriously, Bard always asked himself how he did that when everybody else would look like a sweating rat – Bard offered him to take a piece of pizza himself as it was a margarita anyways but he politely declined. “What’s the matter?” his eldest asked worriedly and Bard could tell that she was worried about the play that was only about a month away anymore.

 

“I ... I’m afraid I can’t hold my promise and go to prom with you”, Legolas announced desperately.

 

“WHAT?!” Bain, who was still under the impression that Legolas and his sister had a secret love affair, asked flabbergasted but quite fascinated. And Bard had to admit that he too was quite surprised. Sigrid hadn’t mentioned anything but he supposed the two of them going together did actually make sense.

 

“Oh that … I thought it was about the play … Don’t worry about it” Sigrid said and clearly exhaled in relief. And really, she reminded Bard so much of her mother right then that it almost hurt. _Oh, the prom, doesn’t matter if only the play is on schedule._

 

Legolas exhaled too, “But I do worry about it because we settled on it and now I can’t go …” It was almost too obvious how sorry the blonde was.

 

“Why can’t you go?” Tilda piped up.

 

“Because of my father …” Legolas answered in defeat and Bard fought really hard to roll his eyes.

 

Sigrid sighed, “What has he said now?” Apparently, the two of them were way more open with each other than only a month ago and Bard suspected the Sig knew all about Legolas’ dispute with Mr. Greenleaf.

 

“Uhm …” Legolas said and really, it was now becoming highly unusual for the boy to start stuttering. That too had subsided in the last month. “He has invited somebody for me … As a date …”

 

“What?” Sigrid exclaimed and now Bard couldn’t do anything but rub his eyes. That man surely was something else.

 

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t go”, Legolas said, “And if I have to break a leg or both to avoid it but I will not go with that stupid woman my father deems worthy to be my prom date …”

 

Now Bain listened more closely, “What do you mean with _deems worthy_ …?”

 

Bard had to admit that that exact bit too had caught his attention. Legolas sighed, “I … Well … He … Oh for fuck’s sake, he thinks you guys to be _below_ our high and mighty standards … Which is bullshit, I just want to emphasize that.”

 

Nobody dared to say anything at that and looked down on the pizza on their plates before Tilda whispered “Swear Glass” insecurely.

 

“Right! Swear Glass”, Legolas nodded and put a few coins in. And really, the fact that he was paying into their Swear Glass already said everything about them not being worthy enough for the town’s royalty.

 

Bard took a deep breath and set down his piece of pizza, “Legolas, we’re going to pay your father a visit now …” the dark-haired man announced calmly.

 

“WHAT?!” all of the four other people in the room exclaimed in horror.

 

“I said”, Bard announced and stood up, drying his pizza-greasy hands with a napkin because on noble quests like this one, greasy fingers weren’t of any use. At least that was what he supposed although, what did he know about noble quests? “I am going to take Legolas back to his father – and if necessary back to us again – in order to give this, forgive me Legolas, pompous ass a piece of my mind. It is one thing to say such things about me and I most certainly would never interfere with anybody and how they raise their children unless it is absolutely necessary but it certainly is another thing altogether if one deems my daughter below the standard of his son who has chosen her to be his prom date. Not with me!”

 

“Da, it’s fine, I don’t mind …” Sigrid tried to soothe him but to no avail.

 

“It is very diplomatic of you to say such things darling but this has been a long time coming. So Legolas, if you don’t mind pointing me towards your house … Right, Swear Glass for the pompous ass”, Bard said and was digging around his jeans for some coins but Bain waved him off. “This time we can let it slide Da …”

 

Bard chuckled, “Very generous of you, thanks. Now Legolas …” the mechanic announced and the same walked out of the kitchen like a kicked puppy. It surely would not be pleasant for him but in the long run he might profit from it if somebody gave his father a piece of his mind. Seriously, who did that guy think he was? He had lost his wife too but somehow managed to survive without becoming a cold-hearted hermit.

 

In the car, Legolas excused himself for the, what Bard thought millionth time, “I am so sorry Bard, I shouldn’t have said anything …”

 

Bard’s knuckles around the steering wheel turned white, “This is not about you Legolas and I hope you know that. It speaks very highly of you that you actually came yourself to tell my daughter though quite frankly, I do not know where you got this behavior from …”

 

Legolas gulped, “Well, I guess it hasn’t been easy for him ... the last few months. Only two weeks ago it has been thirteen years since …”

 

“It surely was horrible for your father and for you, as it is horrible every single day for us that Magda died but still this is no reason for anybody to make other people suffer for it.” Bard thought that he just practiced diplomacy at its best as the blonde teenager really couldn’t do anything about his fathers’ behavior. That diplomatic approach to the current situation however would change any minute now as Legolas directed him right into the driveway that led up to their mansion. And a mansion it was. Obviously, it had been rebuilt after the fire and if there wasn’t such a tale of horror’s revolving around it, Bard supposed it was as close to a fairy tale castle as you could get in real life. The huge driveway was plastered with beautifully cut trees and the most exotic flowers that led up to a huge oak-door. Said door was approached with grim determination of one pissed off father, who had instructed Legolas to stay in the car for now. Bard pounded on the door and waited. Just as he was about to ram his fist against the door again, the same opened.

 

Bard gulped, “Are you Mr. Greenleaf, Legolas’ father?” It only was a rhethorical question, Bard had to admit that much to himself. The man standing in front of him resembled Legolas in just about everything: the blonde and silky hair, the pale skin, the blue eyes, the upright posture and the almost ballet-like movements. The only difference between them were the scars that covered not quite half of the man’s face and his left eye, by the looks of it. Well, that and that he looked slightly older than the teenage boy currently waiting in his car – but only barely so. If Bard had encountered that man elsewhere, he would never have expected him to have a child of seventeen years.

 

“Mr. Oropherion-Greenleaf to be precise, but yes, I am Legolas’ father. And who happen you to be as you were banging on my door like a madman?” the blonde asked with a voice as smooth as silk. And as cold.

 

“I am Bard Bowman, father of the girl you deem unworthy of being your son’s prom date”, Bard countered and hoped that he at least had some in-depth impact on the other man who didn’t show any reaction on the outside.

 

“Ah yes, I see. You are the man my son currently spends more time with than he does at home …” the blonde said, his gaze steadily holding Bard’s, who got more than a little uncomfortable by the cold stare of the other man.

 

“That’s right. And why do you think that is?” He rose a questioning eyebrow.

 

The man opposite him only curled one corner of his lips in a mocking grin, “I consider it to be a phase … which will pass. Just like that infatuation with your daughter.”

 

“Excuse me?!” Bard thought that he might pass out himself any moment by that amount of misplaced self-confidence.

 

The blonde grinned, “Of course I’ll excuse your behavior as I am certain you have no idea what you are talking about. You see, life for you simple, petty people may be really easy and plain, but for some of us, they can be quite complicated … a matter of which you clearly won’t understand a thing, so forgive me for not deepen the subject.”

 

“Father, stop!” Legolas said and slammed the door of Bard’s car shut. Bard however, only registered that fact at the back of his head: “Simple, petty people?!!” Bard exclaimed. The dark-haired mechanic thought to hear a quiet “Oh dear …” from Legolas, but before the boy could interfere, Bard got the tirade started, for which he had actually come:

 

“Now listen here: It might be true that I haven’t been born with money flying out of my ass but I nevertheless could make a living for me and my three kids so forgive me if I do not deem myself completely useless. As I grew up around this town I won’t even pretend not to know what happened to you and your family and it is truly horrible …” Bard thought that he could make out the faintest change in the facial expression of his vis-à-vis, but it certainly didn’t change for the better. Still, Bard did not even think of retreating now: “But let me tell you something: My wife died too, eight months after giving birth to our youngest and I still managed not to retreat from social life completely, provide for my kids and be – hopefully – decent to them and I might say that they turned out quite well. So I will not let some hermit who hasn’t even met my daughter judge her only by her social status.”

 

If anything, the posture of Mr. _Oropherion_ -Greenleaf became straighter than before, “Impressive speech. Are you done now?”

 

Bard took a deep breath, “No, as coincidence will have it, I am not. Still, even with hiding away for the better part of your life, you somehow – miraculously as I may say now – managed to raise a good, well-mannered and truly bright son who trusts you enough to come out to you while still living under the same roof as his …” Bard bit his tongue in order to refrain from calling that man something he might come to regret, “…father. Let me tell you from experience, it is not easy to do that so on top of it all, your son is very brave. And what do you do? Threaten him with _FEMALE_ prom dates and simply not accepting who he is. Seriously, how stupid can a single person be? Don’t you know how much he had to trust you that he did this? And you throw it all away … for what? Social reputation? You might ask yourself if your family’s reputation can really account for more than your own son. Because once he lives his own life, you surely won’t be a part of it anymore if you keep acting like you are now …”

 

Honestly, now Bard was done … and prepared to run for his life if necessary. However, he did not know if the man standing opposite of him wanted to jump him in the next second or of he had actually turned into a marble statue. The blonde man did not move a single muscle for quite some time and Bard already wanted to ask if he was alright, but Legolas beat him to it:

 

“Father …?” He asked quietly but the man only shook his head the slightest bit before he retreated without another word into the insides of the house. Bard turned around to greet Legolas with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want to come with me again … or stay?”

 

Legolas exhaled, “I’ll stay. I wouldn’t be resting a single second when I know how he is … well, actually I don’t know how he is. That has literally never happened before …”

 

Bard nodded, “If anything happens, please call. Anytime, do you hear me?” Legolas nodded, “I would offer to accompany you inside but I fear that I would be torn to shreds by … hunting dogs or whatever.”

 

Legolas chuckled and stepped past Bard into the house, “No need, really. We’ll be fine, I think.” Bard nodded and watched the boy go into the house. The blonde turned once more, “Bard?” The mechanic looked up, “Thank you.” Legolas smiled slightly and closed the door behind him carefully.

 

Bard waited for another few minutes if any shouting or something equally disturbing could be heard. However, he doubted that the Greenleafs shouted. They would probably … fence, or something alike. As the house was silent for quite an amount of time, Bard nodded to himself and left with one last look on that big door before he got into the car. Driving down the driveway, he sighed. His children wouldn’t be as well-mannered and surely would bombard him with questions as soon as he set foot in his house.

 

The next day was quite uneventful – at least compared to the preceding evening. Sigrid had assured (via texting) that Legolas was alright and that he and his father had talked – more information would follow on Monday in school. Even though Sigrid’s mind raced what that cryptic thing could possibly mean, just like Bain’s and Tilda’s, Bard was satisfied. It didn’t sound too traumatic and maybe, things would be changing. He had contemplated all night if his _appearance_ might have made things worse altogether, but that text did let him hope. As neither Tauriel nor Aragorn or Gimli had any news either, Sigrid surrendered eventually and agreed to come to a fair one town over with the rest of them. It was Bain who had wanted to attend in the first place as it was a gardening fair, but there were ponies and other animals as well so Tilda was on board too. Bard supposed that they could make it a family thing which they did after Sigrid received another message from Legolas that he was fine.

Car loaded with what seemed like a ton of new plants for Bain’s bed (Bard already feared that they would have to expand and invest in a new one) they stopped on their way to get ice cream and go to the movies – not without a very skeptical Bain who feared for the well-being of his plants that had to stay in the car for the duration of the film. Once they arrived at home, Bard and Tilda made supper while Sigrid had to do some preparations for the play and Bain tended to his plants. As everybody of them was tired quite early (as apparently neither of them had slept well the night before), the Bowman’s called it and early night.

 

The next morning, however, did hold a huge surprise for them.

Just as Bard had shrugged into his (too) well-worn jeans and a simple T-Shirt and set a pot of coffee, there was a knock on their door. The mechanic, wondering who would visit them that early on a Sunday-morning, would never in a million years had come up with the scenario that presented itself: In front of their door and in between Bain’s new plants (which rested on the porch for now) stood one Mr. Oropherion-Greenleaf with a pie. A goddamn pie. “Uhm …” he muttered unintelligently but didn’t really know what else to say.

 

“Well, I wish you a good morning too”, the other father said sarcastically.

 

Bard however, only raised an eyebrow, “Good morning … Excuse me, but what exactly are you doing here?” Bard looked around a bit helplessly and tried to spot Legolas, but wasn’t able to do so. “Is Legolas alright?” the mechanic asked as an afterthought, already afraid that the boy had run away again.

 

The blonde only rolled his eyes at that, “He is, thank you for worrying though I am not completely incapable as a father …”

 

Now Bard rolled his eyes but nevertheless took a deep breath. “What is that?” he pointed his head at the pie in the blonde’s hands.

 

Now the blonde started to grin slightly, “I have been told that it is common sense to bring something as a token if one is to pay another family a visit. More so, if one has to apologize … But I could be mistaken since my status as a hermit prevented me from updating my knowledge about customs like this one during the last years.” An elegant eyebrow raised in challenge.

 

Bard knitted his own eyebrows together, “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

 

An honest to god chuckle escaped the other man which was followed by a slight nod. “If it will make you feel better, I can fulfill the task of a taster.”

 

Now Bard had to grin, “In that case, come in …” He opened the door further and let the man, who seemed much too majestic to enter their moderate house, in. Bard directed him into the kitchen and offered the man a seat whilst scooping books, newspapers as well as one of Bain’s plants to one end before collecting two mugs and placing them into the dishwasher.

 

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Bard asked their visitor who nodded slightly. “That would be nice, thank you.” The mechanic nodded and turned around to search his cupboard for a sophisticated mug – without success. He didn’t even find two matching ones. That however, distracted him from the awkward silence that stretched in the kitchen. Bard decided that it was time for another attempt at a joke.

 

He turned around to place the two mugs and two plates on the table, “I think I might take up on that offer of your service as a taster”, he added with a slight grin before he got the coffee pot. Legolas’ father, of whom Bard still didn’t know the name as he realized then, nodded briefly but didn’t say anything else.

 

Bard poured first his guest, then himself a mug. “Do you need anything else? Milk or sugar?” the dark-haired man asked.

 

“Both, if you don’t mind”, the other father replied and Bard grinned, “And here I was, taking you for a black-coffee guy …” Nevertheless, he got some sugar and took the carton of milk out of the fridge before placing both on the table. After getting them both two forks and a big knife to cut the pie, Bard settled at the kitchen table as well – albeit feeling a bit anxious.

 

“Well”, he started as the blonde did not say another word, “I guess we truly had an unfortunate start. Let’s try this again, shall we? I am Bard” the mechanic said and extended his hand over the table. Legolas’ father hesitated a moment before he took it. Bard was almost shocked how soft it felt and self-consciously thought of his own callouses. “Thranduil” the blonde said and looked at Bard intently before withdrawing his hand again. “And I really feel the need to apologize … as fate would have it for more than one thing.”

 

Bard bit his bottom lip, “I am afraid that accounts for me as well. I had no right to barge into your home like I did the day before yesterday … in front of your son, no less …”

 

 _Thranduil_ , as Bard knew then, only raised a hand at that and Bard shut up. Why on earth did the man opposite him radiate superiority? “If you hadn’t _barged_ in, as you just put it, I think I might not have listened. And it took somebody as … _convincing_ as you to do just that. Make me listen. And for that, I truly have to thank you …” Legolas’ father trailed off.

 

“Hence the pie?” Bard asked which made another chuckle surface on the part of Thranduil. “Hence the pie”, he confirmed and reached out for the knife in the middle of the table. “Do you mind?” he asked and Bard could only shake his head, “By all means …” Bard gestured to the pie and was quite happy that he didn’t have to make a fool of himself whilst surely destroying this picture-perfect pie with his lack of skills. Thranduil, needless to say, did a flawless job and soon, a much too deliciously smelling piece of pie was sitting on the plate in front of him.

 

“Do you still want me to be the taster”, the blonde teased and Bard grinned.

 

“We could still each take a bite on the count of three …?”

 

Thranduil smiled and both men took a piece of the pie and – without counting – simultaneously ate it. And without really meaning to, Bard just had to moan at the taste. And blushed furiously, once he realized what he had just done. But as soon as the taste of a variation of berries reached his tongue, he just wasn’t able to help himself.

 

Thranduil, if anything, seemed pleasantly amused, “I take it that the poison doesn’t dominate the taste?”

 

Bard chuckled, “Seriously? Even if it was poisoned, I would still eat as much of it as I could before I would die happily.”

 

The corner of the blonde’s lips curled slightly at that, “That is good to hear …”

 

Bard, after taking a sip of the coffee and another bite of the pie immediately afterwards, asked, “So, I take it that you and Legolas have worked things out?” And really, he didn’t want to sound all nosey … which is why he didn’t mention the texting of the other man’s son and Sigrid.

 

Thranduil huffed, “Far from it … But we will continue until we have”, he added as an afterthought. And that really sounded like music to Bard’s ears.

 

“Furthermore, I have to say that I have to apologize for my behavior towards your family. Which is why I came here in the first place. It was completely unacceptable and I hope that one day you can forgive me for … the voicing of things.”

 

Bard had to gulp. About a day ago, he would not have considered this very scenario even in his wildest dreams. What on earth had happened? “I assure you, your pie makes up for most of it.” Bard smiled, “And if you are willing to let Legolas take to prom whoever he likes, you’re entirely forgiven.”

 

Thranduil shook his head, “You cannot be serious …”

 

Bard shrugged, “There’s no need for life-long hatred, as I have come to learn. Plus, us lower half, we are simple minded people, remember?” Bard grinned and was relieved as Thranduil took his statement as the joke it was meant to be.

 

“I can assure you that I won’t interfere with my son’s plans any more than I already have. And of course, he can take to the prom whoever he wants. … More so the daughter of the person who has done the job that I, as Legolas’ father should have done in the previous weeks. You gave him a place to come to … a home, people who were there for him. And for this, I owe you infinite gratitude.” Thranduil exhaled and Bard had to gulp. “I just wish …” the blonde started and chuckled bitterly, “I just wish that someone like you had been around when I was in need of somebody who would listen to me …”

 

Bard furrowed his brows in confusion and wanted to ask what exactly he meant by that, but he was interrupted by his little girl who once again was the first to rise on a Sunday morning and happily hopped into the kitchen, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw Legolas’ father.

 

“Good morning Tilda”, Bard greeted her, “As you can see, we have a visitor, Legolas’ father. Don’t you want to say hello?”

 

Tilda blushed and cautiously approached the other man. “Good morning … Mr. Greenleaf”, she said and extended her hand, that the blonde took. “Good morning Tilda, was it?” The girl nodded and Thranduil smiled, “I am very pleased to make you acquaintance, young lady. My son has told me a lot about you … One thing being that you are a real genius in the kitchen.”

 

Tilda grinned toothily at the man and nodded, “Legolas has shown me how to do pancakes and cookies and vegetarian curry. And a cake. But I forgot its name.” Bard chuckled and ruffled the hair of his daughter who had returned to him and hopped up into his lap.

 

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgement, “That is quite something. Although Legolas too told me about the sandwiches you instructed him to make as well …” Tilda grinned and nodded. Suddenly however, she got all serious again: “What happened to your face?” she asked as bluntly as only children managed to.

 

“Tilda!” Bard scolded her but Thranduil only shook his head, “It is fine, truly. I suppose the question presents itself on a silver tray …” Bard admired the confidence he spoke about his scars, although he did not miss how the blonde let his silky hair fall into his face. “It was a fire”, he started to explain to the girl, “I couldn’t escape in time and so it burned half of my face and my eye. If Legolas hadn’t been there though, it might have been far worse … Like this, it only looks horrible.”

 

 _Wait … Legolas?_ Bard didn’t know what that meant, but Tilda obviously had other things in mind as to follow that trail of thoughts: “I don’t think it looks horrible. You are very pretty …” Tilda nodded and Bard rolled his eyes. Just like it had been with Legolas: “Tilda, I swear to God …” he warned but Thranduil only shrugged, “By all means, let her caress my ego with flattery …” Still, Bard looked apologetic in Thranduil’s direction and got a sly smirk in return.

 

“Does it still hurt?” Bard’s little girl inquired and Bard seriously contemplated stuffing her little mouth with pie.

 

Still, Thranduil answered dutifully: “Not anymore … except when the weather is changing rapidly. There I get a slight tingle in my left cheek. And I cannot go sunbathing without protecting my face but otherwise it is quite alright.” Bard doubted that that man ever went sunbathing, considering his flawless skin.

 

“Okay …” Tilda seemed satisfied with that, “Whose pie is that?” she asked and Bard silently sent a prayer towards heaven that she did not press the man any further. After she munched on her own piece of pie and praised the blonde for his present as well, the same excused himself … probably to avoid getting interrogated by Bard’s other children like Tilda did. Bard brought him to the door and again thanked him for the pie. “Maybe …” Bard started, “Maybe we’ll meet again sometime? I’d really like that …” Bard suggested because he thought it was the proper thing to do.

 

Thranduil only smirked at that, “You mean with another pie?”

 

“That or otherwise”, Bard answered and suddenly thought of something: “Maybe we could meet at the school’s play? If you plan on going, I mean …” Bard added as an afterthought.

 

The blonde however, nodded: “You mean so we can back each other up?” At Bard’s raised eyebrows he elaborated, “Against the advances some of the women surely are planning? Considering your looks I suspect that you received them as well …”

 

Bard chuckled, “Now, was that a complement in disguise?”

 

The blonde crooked his head, “I hear that the ruggedly-handsome look is quite popular now”, he added with a grin and looked down on Bard’s jeans. The mechanic chuckled, “Backing each other up sounds like a good idea to me. So we’ll meet there?”

 

Thranduil nodded and walked outside the door towards his car, leaving the jungle of Bain’s plants behind him as he walked towards his car. “Thranduil?” Bard called after him and the addressed man turned around again: “Thank you. For the pie and … the apologies. I really appreciate both.”

 

The blonde smirked again and bowed his head slightly before he got into his car. As Bard returned into his kitchen, he still did not quite know what on earth had just happened but, he got some delicious pie out of it and, as Tilda backed him up on, that was a good thing in itself.

 

 

The weeks after _The Pie-Meeting_ , as the Bowman household had labelled that particular day, passed in a similar fashion than those before Bard’s encounter with Legolas’ father, meaning that Legolas and his entourage occupied their house on a frequent basis which Bard did not mind one bit. Especially since he needed help with another bed in the garden. Still, the mechanic could not help to notice how much happier the blonde teenager was. Apparently, Thranduil had kept his word and both were about to work through their differences – Legolas had told Bard as much as he had asked him once before dropping him off.

 

This however meant that Bard – in his bliss that for once, everything seemed to be in order – was completely oblivious how quickly time passed and just like that, the evening of the play was there. And he had to admit that now, as he stood with Bain and Tilda in the high school’s auditorium which they had stuffed with supposedly all chairs available in the entire building and looked for a seat, he was quite curious. Legolas as well as Tauriel and even Aragorn had mentioned that he would love it – _they_ would love it – on more than one occasion. Even though Bard was sure that he would, as he would love just about anything his girl had written, he could not help to wonder what they had meant.

Overlooking the room facing the stage, Bard looked for at least three seats that were available next to each other, but had a hard time finding some. Alfrid at the garage had held him there longer than necessary which had led to him picking Tilda up and arriving later than he originally had planned. Inwardly he cursed.

 

“Da, look!” Tilda exclaimed suddenly and pointed right in front of the stage. At first, Bard had a hard time making out what or who had attracted her attention over the sheer amount of people, but it soon became quite clear: Thranduil, as soon as he had risen to his full height, seated perfectly in the middle of the stage, waved them over. Bard sighed happily and raised his hand in greeting before he ushered his kids in the direction of the other man.

Just as they arrived at the according row, Thranduil waved again at them in an obvious attempt to shake off two of _The Mothers_ who had occupied two of the three seats that Bard assumed were for the three of them. Even though the mechanic found the sight of a clearly distressed Thranduil in front of him quite amusing, he took pity on the man. “Thranduil! So nice of you to keep some seats for us”, Bard exclaimed happily and was promptly backed up by a waving Tilda. The two women whipped around, at first clearly mad but soon their gazed softened. He suppressed another sigh. He remembered one of them – and her persistence – from the school’s barbecue last year.

 

“See ladies, I was not taking you for fools when I said I was keeping these seats for some friends”, the blonde emphasized, “As much as it pains me but I’m afraid you have to return to your own. The play is about to begin any minute now …”

 

As soon as the two women had pushed themselves quite suggestively past Thranduil and with a wink or two in his direction, they retreated to their own seats. Bard sat down next to Legolas’ father, Tilda and Bain next to him.

 

“You took your time …” Thranduil said, his eyes not leaving the stage.

 

Bard shrugged, “I thought it would be a shame to interrupt that exchange with you fans there …”

 

The blonde snorted, “I am more than willing to share.”

 

Bard chuckled and shook his head, “I am sure I cannot compete with you; neither in the terms of looks nor money. Much less money … and the social standing that comes with it.”

 

“Oh, I assure you, I could not care less about my family’s money. In fact, I have never touched a single coin of it but made my own. Maybe I’ll invest in Legolas’ education, but he had a fund from the side of his mother …” the blonde trailed off. “And concerning the looks: I’m not sure if my scars can truly compete with your features.”

 

Bard wanted to reply something to that, though not sure what, but Tilda started hopping up and down on her chair: “Look Da, it starts!”

 

And truly, Gandalf Grey, the headmaster, came onto the stage and said a few words about how proud he was to be able to stage a play again this year – with the enormous input from the Drama Club, of course. Well, that at least was the essence of it, Bard assumed, as the elderly man had the tendency to drift in his speeches. Considering Thranduil’s roll of eyes, he too was familiar with the concept. As they had arrived at the need of the creative spirit to wander and unfold, preferably in meadow-like environments – and how on earth had they gotten _there_? – Mr. Baggins, the head of the Drama Club, stuck his head through the curtain, coughed and brought Mr. Grey to close his nice little speech. And then, the play started, Tilda clutching Bard’s hand and even Bain leaned towards the stage in anticipation.

 

In all fairness, Bard had to say that at the beginning, he did not get entirely why they, as a family would _love_ the play. Sure, it was a good story, of a man struggling with the hardships of keeping a balance between family and private life, and truly well played on the part of Legolas. But as they dove deeper and deeper into the plot, Bard could not help but notice some parallels between that guy up on stage – Gillion, his grandfather’s name, by all means – and him. At first, he had thought that he was imagining things and becoming paranoid in his old days, but suddenly, Tilda was leaning towards him and whispered, “Da, that guy is just like you …” To say that Bard was touched by the action of his eldest daughter, who deemed him worthy enough to write a goddamn play that covered everything from family and work life over a coming-out and even death was an understatement. Honestly, he had to wipe away a tear threatening to roll down his cheeks more than once during the two acts that play lasted. Once the lights went out, there was thundering applause that was clearly more than the oftentimes experienced polite clapping and as his daughter came onto the stage after the actors and Legolas gave her a bouquet of flowers and a kiss on the cheek, people even whistled (and not like Bain who still hadn’t given up on the idea that the two of them were a secret couple). Bard could not help himself but to burst with pride and as he took a look to his right, Thranduil did just the same. Although Bard supposed that the blonde had a more graceful approach than he himself and his stupid grin.

 

As the two fathers waited for their respective children to arrive at the auditorium where the school had gathered some money to serve them drinks, Bain off to chat with some of his friends and Tilda hobbling around in between the two of them, Thranduil turned towards him, grinning: “Well, it seems to me that now, regarding the play, that you are going to be the center of advances …”

 

Bard chuckled, “I truly hope that there people are not all that familiar with my personal life to recognize the parallels …” Well, he truly hoped they weren’t.

 

Tilda pulled at his sleeve, “Da? What are advances?”

 

Bard cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Well … Advances are if somebody likes another person romantically and they try to show it, sometimes more openly than at other times. Like they compliment the other person, give the same small presents and so on …”

 

“Right”, Tilda nodded and scrunched her nose again, “… I see.” Bard looked at Thranduil, who still had that damn smirk on his face. Thankfully, Tilda did not ask what the ‘more openly’ meant.

 

Just as Bard had detected some of _The Mothers_ looking at the three of them as if at least Thranduil and himself were some sort of prey, the Drama Club entered the auditorium and Sigrid as well as Legolas made their way directly over at them which seemed to scare the women off. Sigrid seemed a bit apprehensive clearly not knowing what Bard had made out of her play.

 

“So … what do you think?” his girl asked him with a secure distance from about two meters. Bard opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say but Bain, turning up behind him from God knew where, exclaimed, “Da cried!” He was clearly way too joyous about it.

 

“It was wonderful Sigrid …” Bard said, voice thick with emotion, “I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you see me and my chaos like that …” Bard shook his head.

 

“I hope I did that chaos justice as well …” Legolas teased and grinned at Bard.

 

“Oh, you made it way more presentable than you know it really is …” Bard chuckled. Now the whole thing with Sigrid telling Legolas about his coming out made way more sense that it did before. Bard only became aware that Thranduil hadn’t said a word beside him until he offered a “You were very good, Legolas.”

 

The blonde teenager looked quickly at his father, then on the floor: “Thank you, father.”

 

Bain however, was less modest with his praises, “Good? He was amazing …” the boy exclaimed and Legolas gave him a grateful smile.

 

As Bard was searching for a suitable way to defuse the obvious tension, Thranduil took him by surprise by agreeing: “Indeed. You do have great talent … that I’m afraid I have failed to acknowledge so far.” Bard realized how disbelieve was showing on Legolas’ face, “I hope it is not too late to do so now …” The other father continued and if that wasn’t at least some progress, Bard didn’t know what was. Legolas opened his mouth to return something, but was interrupted by Tauriel, who flung herself at her best friend from behind. “You, my friend, were exceptional!” she exclaimed, pecking the blonde’s neck a few times, which elicited a chuckle from the boy. Then, Tauriel gave the same treatment to Sigrid which led to Thranduil looking … well, bewildered was probably a fitting expression. Considering the commonly quite stoic expression on the man’s face, Bard could not say he was surprised. Said expression, however, changed into plain furious as soon as two teenage boys came into view behind the redhead. One dark-haired boy told Sigrid how well her play had been quite openly and effectively while the other one, dark-blonde, got way more into detail, smiling almost shyly at his daughter, who did not really know where to cast her eyes. ‘ _Interesting …_ ’ Bard thought. The change in Thranduil’s expression too was something of high interest – most of all due to the fact that it intensified as soon as the two boys addressed Thranduil directly: “And you must be Legolas’ father …” the dark-haired boy said, while the dark-blonde continued, “Our uncle has told us a lot about you …”

 

“Well, I could tell you a lot about your uncle too …” Thranduil countered, which Bard could only frown at – more so as Tauriel as well as Legolas started rolling their eyes and looking quite pointedly at each other. Bard cast a look towards Sigrid who might have explained something about this exchange, but she only looked at the dark-blonde who, after a few seconds of a staring match, introduced himself as Fíli, the other one as Kíli to Bard. Clearly brothers, then. After a few more moments of awkwardness resulting from the clear tension between the two boys and Thranduil – wherever that came from – Bard suggested that they would go home now, casting his gaze down at a suspiciously tired Tilda leaning on his leg. “Actually …” Fíli started and Thranduil looked like he would soon jump the teenager, “Mr. Bowman, we thought that we might go for a drink … if you don’t mind, of course, you know … to celebrate.”

 

Bard had to grin, “Of course, of course you should go and celebrate. You have every reason to.”

 

Sigrid beamed up at him in a way she had not done in a much too long time – and that Fíli did so as well, as Bard had to notice in an amused way.

 

“I’ll drop her off … not too late”, Legolas assured him and both shared a knowing grin that Fíli as well as his dear daughter were clearly oblivious to. Bard nodded and scooped Tilda up on his arm, “Well then, Bain? We’ll be off. You all have a good time. …” Then he remembered the disgusted father to his right. “Do you have a ride home or shall we take you, Thranduil?” Bard asked.

 

“Since my son is going to make sure that your daughter is getting home safely …” a very pointed look at the two brothers followed, “… that would be very kind Bard, thank you.”

 

“Not a problem”, Bard grinned, “Well then, have a good time, all of you.” He said before he tried to usher Thranduil as effectively into the direction of their car. And he intended to get to the bottom of this … whatever it was between the boys’ uncle and him that had him react the way he did during the drive.

 

 

Bard however only got real clarity on that matter as Legolas picked his daughter up for the prom the following week. Apparently, it was a long family feud between the Oropherions and the Oakenshields that went way back to a time when people actually had to hunt for a living. The Oakenshields apparently had hunted deer on the lands of the Oropherions which had caused the discrepancies that had been upheld ever since. The dispute between Thorin Oakenshield, local and quite artistic smith, and Thranduil however had its very own history: Thorin had asked Thranduil for help with the designs of a particular background for one of the Drama Clubs performances (as Mr. Baggins was Thorin Oakenshield’s partner, Legolas explained to him) which Legolas’ father, who apparently did designs for a living, had declined. In turn, Thorin had refused to build one of Thranduil’s designs that had led to a massive delay for Thranduil’s work … and so on. Legolas had only rolled his eyes. Finally, Bard had understood – and he could just picture Thranduil and his hurt pride so vividly that the mechanic had the feeling as if he had witnessed the fight firsthand.

What was way more important though was the fact that his daughter, his little Sigrid was about to go to her prom with Legolas, the most popular guy at the local high school. And even if they knew that they are only going as friends (maybe except Bain), people surely would talk. More so because Legolas doubtlessly had searched each and every clothing store for men’s formal wear in order to find a tie as well as a handkerchief to fit Sigrid’s dress. Or the Greenleaves had their own tailor. They probably had their own tailor. Anyway, Bard again asked himself as he took the obligatory pictures of his daughter and the blonde teenager standing in front of Magda’s tree, how on earth he could simply have missed a huge thing like her growing up. Seriously, how was a thing like that possible?

After wishing them a good night and lots of fun, he (as well as Tilda beside him and Bain, who doubtlessly spied through one of the windows) returned to the house, quite happy that Tilda only reached up to his hip, as it was. It would take some time until she had to go to her own prom.

 

 

The following weeks were a blur: a blur of work, gardening (Bain and his obsession with plants), first waiting a seemingly endless amount of time for Sigrid’s acceptance letters to university programs, then the nerve-wrecking process of picking one as each and every university Sigrid had applied to had actually accepted her (his smart daughter – Bard had the feeling he would soon burst with pride), the coordination with Aragorn whom Sigrid intended to share a flat with, the actual flat hunting … and the goodbyes! The sad goodbyes that were accompanied by promises to always call and always meet, tears as well as a huge party in the Bowman’s garden to celebrate the start of college life that thankfully, was significantly happier than the other things mentioned. And the best part about it was that Bard didn’t have to do anything himself. The graduates organized everything themselves: Kíli, Fíli and Gimli were responsible for the food, Legolas – to the surprise of no one – arrived with about a ton of cake, Sigrid and Aragorn organized the drinks while Tauriel looked after the music. Needless to say, Bard was more than flattered that they decided to do all that in their home – and they thanked him in a toast for providing them with a place that all of them apparently considered to be a place they were always welcome and felt like they belonged to.

 

The day where Aragorn picked Sigrid up to move to college was a sad one though. Tilda had cried the whole day and even Bain wiped his eyes few times. Bard did his best not to cry in front of his eldest as she would doubtlessly feel guilty about “leaving” them. As he lay in his bed that night, he could not help but let out a few quiet sobs himself …

Summer however meant that Bain and Tilda would also “leave” him, at least temporarily: Bain had come across a gardening summer camp that he wanted to go to above everything else and Tauriel had told Tilda that she and Legolas would teach at a children’s archery camp before they moved to campus themselves. The prospect of spending more time with the two teenagers that Bard believed Tilda regarded as siblings as well had her begging Bard for about a week before he allowed her to go as well. This however meant, that their house was practically deserted for the first time in … well, ever. And this was much more difficult for Bard than he had anticipated. At first, he tried to burry himself in work at the garage as he could use the extra money (did he mention that he had to finance two summer camps?) but this still meant that in the evenings, he had way too much time to himself – even though he tried to keep the garden in check and get the house cleaned systematically.

 

One such evening however offered some change in his pattern:

At about half past ten in the evening on a Saturday Bard was about to go to bed in a short amount of time when he thought he heard something at the door. Not a knock, more like a light scratch as if something had barely grazed the door. Maybe it had been the neighbor’s cat or a bird or something like that. Bard was already two stairs up on his way into his bedroom when he heard a faint knock. No, scratch that, the faintest of knocks. Furrowing his brows, Bard turned on his heels and went to the door – cautiously. It couldn’t be that Alfrid would be spying on him even when he was at home now, could it? And if he did, he surely wouldn’t knock.

As the mechanic reached the door, he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders to brace himself whatever was in front of the same. A few milliseconds later he jumped back with a slight and undignified yelp. Seriously, one simply could not brace oneself for a blonde-haired royal, slumped in front of his door – on the floor – smelling like he had consumed all the alcohol available in town, grinning up at Bard.

 

“Thranduil?” Bard asked flabbergasted, not quite believing the scene in front of his eyes. And if that hadn’t been enough, the up to then always majestic person started to giggle. Actually giggle.

 

“Hey Baaard …” The grinning continued … from the dirty floor of their porch as Bard hadn’t had the chance to clean it yet.

 

The dark-haired man shook out of his stupor: “I would ask you how you are but I’m afraid that’s quite obvious …”

 

“I’m great … really great … huh …” Thranduil exclaimed as he swayed and almost fell backwards.

 

Bard couldn’t help himself, he had to chuckle, “Let’s see if you still think like that in the morning”, Bard said and tried to get the other man off the floor of his porch, for Christ’s sake. And one thing he didn’t anticipate was how heavy the other guy was. Seriously, for a man that thin he really was heavy. Bard thought that he had to hide a lot of muscle under these designer robes.

 

Hobbling towards the living room – and seriously, why were all the members of the Greenleaf-family camping on their sofa? – he thought he felt Thranduil smell his neck. Did that guy smell his neck? And more importantly, _why_ was he smelling his neck?

 

“Did you walk all the way from your house to ours?” Bard tried to get a conversation going.

 

Thranduil nodded while Bard sat him down, “Yeah … It would have been ir-responsible to drive like that.”

 

“You don’t say …” Bard teased but the blonde obviously didn’t get it in his state of mind, “I do say …”

 

Bard nodded. “Right! Wait a second, I’ll get you some water and a blanket.”

While Bard hunted the respective things down (plus an Advil) he shook his head. What on earth had happened to Thranduil? As Bard returned to the living room he saw that the other man had already lain down, however, not as graceful as Bard was sure he usually did. It looked suspiciously like the other man had simply let his upper body sink to the sofa while his feet still stayed on the floor. Bard had to grin involuntarily. “I think if you stay like that, you won’t be able to move a single muscle by tomorrow morning.”

 

The indignant “Hmpf” that followed killed all the hope Bard had left that the blonde would move on his own. “Alright”, Bard sighed, “I will make sure you never forget this, I promise that much …” he announced before he put the glass of water onto the couch table and the blanket on the sofa. With his now free hands, he awkwardly embraced Thranduil and tried to pull him up the sofa. The blonde groaned and buried his head in the crook of Bard’s neck, sniffling again.

 

“You smell good …” Thranduil stated with his voice muffled by Bard’s hair and T-shirt.

 

The mechanic snorted, “Considering I moved my evening shower to tomorrow morning I highly doubt that …”

 

Thranduil however seemed highly unimpressed as he kept sniffing Bard’s neck. The dark-haired man cleared his throat self-consciously. Once he had managed to lift Thranduil up the sofa enough so that he could at least resemble a sleeping position, the mechanic got the blanket and draped it over the other man. “Well then, good night I guess …” Bard said after a few moments as it was clear nothing else would come from the man lying down on his sofa, “If you need anything, I think it would be the safest if you just … called”, Bard added with a worried look at their narrow stairs.

 

Just as he wanted to finally retreat to his bedroom, Thranduil’s hand closed around his wrist. “Thanks Bard …” he murmured and sleepily opened his eyes.

 

“You are welcome”, Bard answered, “I couldn’t let you out on the streets like that now, could I?” He chuckled somewhat uneasily.

 

“You … You are so nice to me … and … to Legolas as well … I don’t …” he trailed off.

 

Bard grinned, “Don’t mention it. I like to help …” Thranduil grinned up at him and pulled him down slightly by his hand.

 

“Thank you”, Thranduil whispered, “for everything.” He pulled the mechanic even further down so he could whisper another “Thank you” in his ear which honestly gave Bard goosebumps. Before he could think about what they meant, he already felt the blonde’s lips on his cheek and Bard had to admit that it was almost embarrassing how much he blushed. It had been some time, but still …

 

“Thranduil …” Bard warned because the man clearly wasn’t himself.

 

The blonde however, only gave a quick, throaty moan and moved his lips down to Bard’s neck. The mechanic was ashamed to admit that for a brief second, he let his eyes slip close and himself enjoy the feeling of another human’s hot breath against his neck but quickly cleared his head again. “Thranduil, stop!” he said and hoped that it sounded at least a bit authorial. The dark-haired man thought he heard a quiet “No” but couldn’t be sure. So he moved his neck, probably a shake of his head to emphasize his “No”, he wasn’t quite sure himself, which turned out to be a fatal mistake. Thranduil bit him. Bard didn’t know why or how that had happened, but he was almost sure that this … whatever it was, was originally meant to be a kiss that had turned out differently due to him moving and the blonde being drunk as he was. Bard jerked back and pressed a hand to his neck. Thranduil however obviously didn’t really know what was going on but apologized nevertheless.

 

“It’s alright … It’s fine, seriously, don’t worry about it”, Bard assured him and after he reminded the man that there was some water on the table in front of him went upstairs to his bedroom. Before that, however, he quickly went into the bathroom and checked his neck only to find that it actually bled slightly. Bard quickly cleaned it, for once happy that his children had him stack just about every room with antiseptic and the such and muttered, “Well, this is going to bruise just nicely …” before he finally made it to his bed. Even though before the Thranduil-incident he had been tired to the bone, now it proved very hard to clear his mind from … well, the Thranduil-incident. Whatever did that … event just mean? Was the blonde simply drunk to a point where he would have kissed anybody or was there more? And, most importantly: He had been married. Well, so had Bard, but he never hid his sexuality whilst Thranduil hadn’t reacted to well to his sons’ coming out which could lead to the conclusion that he was a most traditional heterosexual. But of course, one could never be sure …

Shifting from one side of the bed to the other, Bard already feared the conversation that surely couldn’t be avoided in the morning.

 

 

Bard awoke to the sunlight shining through the half open curtains of his window and groaned. As predicted, he hadn’t slept too well last night … and his dreams hadn’t been that relaxing either. He couldn’t remember all too well but he vaguely recalled blonde flowing hair and biting. ‘ _And where ever did that come from?’_ Bard thought sarcastically.

He rolled out of bed and went straight for the bathroom, checking his bruise. It actually did look worse than last night as it had turned from simply red to an interesting mixture of black, purple, blue, red and even a little yellow around the edges. Thankfully, Bain wasn’t around – he would never hear the end of it. The mechanic was rather quick with his morning routine; he took a quick shower, brushed his hair and pulled it back in a bun, brushed his teeth, put on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and went down into to kitchen to make a huge pot of coffee, passing a deeply breathing Thranduil who was hidden mainly under a blanket. No matter how visible the lack of sleep was on his face, he knew that a certain someone would look even worse than him today. At least he thought so, but who knew with these Greenleaves?

 

Bard had already made himself some breakfast which he ate slowly whilst reading the newspaper he had delivered only on Sundays as every other day was way too hectic to even think about reading in the mornings. But Sundays, he considered his luxury … The luxury of time in the mornings, time to spend with his kids (given that they were present, of course), time to do things that he had put on hold during weekdays. But as he did have way more time in the evenings these days, he simply sat there and read, taking a sip of coffee now and then. He thought about maybe getting some laundry done later that day but that had time. His peace was only disrupted once a quite unceremonious thump came from the living room which was followed by a loud yelp and an equally loud moan echoing through the house soon after. Bard debated with himself if he should look if everything was alright but decided against it. Who was he kidding, the guy would be miserable, more so if he had fallen from their sofa which according to the preceding sounds was very likely. He would let Thranduil collect what was left of his pride and join him when he deemed it appropriate. Which was about ten minutes later.

 

Thranduil appeared in the door of his kitchen and Bard tried really hard not to start chuckling. To be fair, now Bard knew that the blonde’s hair didn’t always look as flawless as it usually did. And he couldn’t say that he didn’t feel a little gleeful for discovering the fact. Furthermore, the eyes of the designer were red-rimmed and he had huge circles under his eyes.

 

“Good morning …” Bard tried but was only greeted with an “Ungh!” before the blonde slumped down at the table and let his head fall onto the same.

 

Again, Bard had to suppress a chuckle, “I take it that some coffee would be welcome … maybe with a bit of water?” the mechanic tried a joke and Thranduil only muffled, “Make that a pitcher of both … please.”

 

Bard chuckled and filled a huge glass with fresh water as well as one of their bigger mugs with coffee. Remembering that Thranduil took sugar and milk, he put them on the table as well. Then, he gave his own mug a refill and set up another can. He had the feeling that it would be duly needed. By the time the mechanic returned to the table, the other man had lifted himself up and drowned the water before he closed his hands around the coffee mug. After he had taken a sip and grimaced, he sighed and reached out first for the milk and then the sugar.

 

As the blonde had nodded to his mug, he turned towards Bard: “Thank you. For … well … I don’t know what I can possibly say to apologize. Again. I am so sorry I don’t know what came over me to just … come here! I …”

 

“Honestly”, Bard stated, “I am much happier with you coming here than you going anywhere else in the state you were in yesterday. I wonder how you even made it to my house to be honest …”

 

Thranduil sighed, “I don’t remember a single thing so I’m afraid I can’t help you there …” he took another sip of his coffee before he continued, “I am truly afraid to ask, but did I make a terrible fool of myself yesterday?”

 

Bard cleared his throat unconsciously which had the blonde lay his head down on the table once again, “Oh _dear_!” he groaned.

 

Bard, on the other hand, found that immensely endearing. “Seriously, you are fine. Nothing to apologize for … To be honest, I was quite happy to see that you aren’t as perfect as I always pictured you – well, you and Legolas for that matter – to be.”

 

Thranduil snorted and lifted his head, “Perfect?! … If that only were the case!” Bard already wanted to prove his thesis with various cases, but suddenly the eyes of the other man widened. “Good God, what happened there?”

 

Bard furrowed his brows and followed Thranduil’s gaze down to his neck. _‘Right, that.’_

Bard again cleared his throat to which Thranduil’s eyes widened even more, “Please tell me that that wasn’t me …”

 

“Erm … It wasn’t you?” Bard tried but the blonde simply let his head crash onto the table again which Bard was sure, hurt immensely.

 

“What did I do …? Holy shit, this is so embarrassing!” Thranduil whined and Bard just had to chuckle again and hoped that maybe, the other man would let it go. No such luck, though: “Seriously Bard, tell me!”

 

“Eh well … as I put the blanket over you, you may or may not have … uhm, bit me.”

 

“WHAT?! Ou!” Thranduil groaned after he had snapped his head up way too fast for his hangover. Seconds afterwards, the designer collected himself and looked at Bard, “What?” he tried again, this time more like the calm and terrifying Thranduil Bard knew.

 

The mechanic sighed, “Look, I don’t think it was meant as a bite … It was my fault really, I shouldn’t have moved my head …” And really, why did Bard feel like it was him who had to apologize?

 

“Bard …” Thranduil simply said with that _voice_ of his that simply had Bard do whatever he had been told.

 

“Alright …” he sighed, “Alright. I think – but I could be mistaken there – that you meant to … kiss me? Maybe? I wasn’t quite sure …”

 

The blonde sighed even louder than before and rubbed his eyes, while a blush spread over his whole face. Bard never thought he would see the day. After quite some time where the silence in the room was as uncomfortable as it could be, turned his head towards Bard but didn’t dare to look directly at him and started: “Bard, I am so, so terribly sorry. I don’t even know what to say … Maybe I’ll just keep my damn mouth shut as there isn’t anything that could make up for my action – no, scratch that – my actions, plural, last night.”

 

Bard shook his head, “Seriously, it’s nothing to worry about. Although I have to say that I am a little confused … So I actually would prefer if you wouldn’t keep that mouth shut, as you have put it.”

 

Thranduil nodded, “Of course, you deserve an explanation. But if you want that, I have to warn you: This will take time and more coffee.”

 

As if on cue, Bard’s coffee machine beeped and signaled that it was done. Bard only grinned and got up to get the item while Thranduil himself chuckled slightly.

 

“Right, okay. I guess I’ll start from the very beginning then: From about the age of twelve, I was certain that I was gay.” Bard coughed on his coffee and spat it back in the mug. Thranduil only raised an eyebrow, “What a promising start. Well, let’s continue, shall we?” Bard only waved his hand in the air and beckoned the other man to continue.

 

“I knew that my father would never accept it, well me as it was. Still, I told him but his actions were just like I had predicted them. Nevertheless, I tried my best to stand up to him but he …” the blonde sighed, “Let’s just say he was very convincing and knew which strings to pull. And I …” he broke off and Bard saw tears welling up in his eyes, “I have not been – I _am_ not as strong as my brave, brave son is. So I let my father marry me to a girl who he deemed a perfect fit, politically. … Linadriel.” Now the tears started to roll down the man’s cheeks, “And dear God, she didn’t deserve anything that happened to her. It should have happened to me … she … if we hadn’t been married, she would have been there that night …”

 

Thranduil started sobbing uncontrollably and Bard, after a few moments of hesitation, moved around the table and laid his hand down on the blonde’s arm. Sadly, he knew from experience that there wasn’t anything that he could possibly say that would make the other man feel better. So he just waited.

 

Once Thranduil had somewhat collected himself, he looked up at Bard with glassy eyes, “She was the most wonderful woman you could imagine Bard. Intelligent, witty … not afraid to tell me off.” Bard grinned. “Beautiful, inside and out. The kindest person I had met until then. It took me some time to see it, as I closed myself off from basically everything after the marriage. But once I realized how wonderful she was, I loved her immediately. … Sadly, I could not love her as everybody wanted me to …” Bard squeezed the blonde’s arm and mirrored Thranduil’s sad smile.

 

“Did she know?” the mechanic asked and to his surprise, Thranduil laughed. “One day, she just came up to me, put her arm on her hip and said, ‘Don’t fool yourself and think that I don’t know you are gay! And I don’t care, so stop moping around for heaven’s sake!’” Bard’s eyes grew wide and the blonde chuckled. “I think it was then when I realized how great she really was. And from that time on, everything was fine. We arranged ourselves as best as we could with the situation. We both had lovers – from towns rather far away, mind you, for we had to avoid gossip at any time – but at the end of the day, we always returned to each other. It would have been the perfect marriage really … in a way, I think it was. Does that make me a lunatic?” Thranduil giggled somewhat insecurely but Bard could only shake his head, “Absolutely not! I think what makes a marriage a great one are openness, honesty and trust. And quite obviously, you achieved that … I can only say that I admire you for that.”

 

“Thank you”, Thranduil said, and refilled his coffee cup.

 

However, now Bard had become curious: “Do you allow me one question … that you don’t have to answer, of course …”

 

Thranduil only waved his hand gracefully (apparently, the coffee was working): “After last night, you are allowed to ask me just about anything …”

 

Bard took a deep breath, “Is Legolas your son? I mean, in a biological sense …” The teenager did look like Thranduil, but he could also come after his mother, for all Bard knew.

 

The dark-haired man was afraid that he had overstepped a boundary but Thranduil only nodded calmly, “Yes, yes he is. … Once the families demanded an heir, we sat down and talked about it. At first, we thought about in vitro fertilization but were afraid of the talk that would spread. Also, the technologies weren’t as advanced as they are today and the risk would have been really high. So we accomplished it in the traditional sense.” Bard only raised his eyebrows at that. Thranduil however only grinned, “Thankfully, Lina wasn’t opposed to gay porn so we both got something out of it.”

 

Bard just couldn’t help himself, he had to laugh out loudly and even Thranduil grinned. “I hope this isn’t a case of ‘too much information’ … but you asked”, the blonde continued and Bard only shook his head, “I did. And no, it’s not. … It’s amazing though, when I think about it. She truly was a woman ahead of her time …”

 

Thranduil nodded sadly, “That she was, she truly was. And she didn’t deserve a horrible thing like what happened that night happen to her.”

 

“Did you know who attacked you?” Bard asked but Thranduil shook his head, “No, It was completely random. At first, I also thought about a family feud or something like that but no ties could be proven.”

 

“That’s terrible …” Bard only shook his head and drank some coffee as well.

 

“Part of me wishes that I too had died that day. That … That Legolas had simply run out that door without looking back …” To deep in thought to realize anything else, Thranduil didn’t see Bard growing more curious.

 

“He … he saved you?” the mechanic asked and suddenly remembered Thranduil mentioning something like that on his first visit when Tilda had interrogated him.

 

The blonde nodded and smiled sadly up at Bard, “That little fellow heard the screams and instead of running for his life, he came straight into our bedroom. Thankfully, the attacker was gone by then. Apparently, he wasn’t aware that there still was a child in the house. I can’t even think about what could have happened …” the blonde’s voice failed and he cleared his throat, “However, Legolas hurried in and instead of fleeing from the flames he ran straight towards me and undid the ropes that tied me to the bed. To this day I don’t know how he did that with his little hands … Or why he simply listened as I said he shouldn’t look … look at what lay next to me in bed …” Tears started running down the blonde’s cheeks again and even Bard had some in his own eyes by then.

 

“He undid the ropes just in time … The blanket had already caught fire and burned that side of my body. We just barely made it out the house …”

 

Bard laid his arm around the crying Thranduil and whispered, “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry …” The blonde just laid his hand on Bard’s that rested on his shoulder as he clearly wasn’t able to say anything else at the moment. After what could have been a few minutes but also only a few seconds, Bard couldn’t tell, Thranduil took a deep breath, “From that moment onwards, I started retreating again. Once our house was rebuilt, I only left it when absolutely necessary and as Legolas grew up, he started asking questions. Why we were living as reclusive as we did, why I didn’t go out and so on. At first, I could easily find excuses but as he grew older still … Let’s just say, he couldn’t be fooled by my poor explanations anymore. And we grew apart.” Thranduil took another sip of his coffee, “Thanks to you, however, this is about to change, at least that’s the feeling if have. We have worked through a lot but we’re far from covering everything that had happened and changed between us.” Thranduil chuckled, “It was only yesterday that I realized how utterly alone I am without Legolas – which was why I drank as much as I apparently did – and I wanted to thank you, again, for bringing me to pull my head out of my ass, if you forgive me saying so.”

 

Bard only smiled and nodded courtly. “But why did you react that way you had? I do not understand …”

 

Thranduil smiled knowingly, “Do you remember that day when you drove up to our house and told me all those things?”

 

Bard nodded, “How could I forget?”

 

Thranduil smiled, “Apparently it took one pissed off father to show me that I was acting exactly like mine had done back in the day. And every day I am grateful that that happened because I was too blind to realize I was becoming that horrible person I had sworn to myself never to become … You had the courage to set my mind straight and for that I will be eternally grateful. … The funny thing is, I think that now I have the perspective of being a father, I can understand mine better. I think that … that he didn’t hate me, as I had been convinced for a long time but that he wanted to protect me – in his own weird ways. Just like I wanted to protect Legolas …”

 

Bard smiled, “He will be fine, I am sure of it. And the truth is that we can’t protect our children from everything, if we want to hear it or not …”

 

Thranduil nodded. “I know it’s just … I am so scared sometimes … that something is going to happen to him. And now that he’s off to college it gets even worse. I mean look at me, he’s gone barely two weeks and I find myself waking up at your place …”

 

Bard laughed, “You can come by any time, you know, not only when your drunk.” Thranduil looked up at Bard with something in his eyes that the mechanic could not quite put his finger on. One thing he knew though, it was something that made his skin crawl – and not in a bad way. In order to diffuse the tension, he continued, “I have two more children besides Sigrid, so if you ever find yourself missing that chaos, just drop by.” Bard chuckled but Thranduil averted his eyes, “Of course … I mean, thank you. That is very kind. Legolas has told me so much about them …” The blonde trailed off and Bard frowned at the change in atmosphere. “What’s the matter?”

 

Thranduil gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and told him that everything was fine. Bard however would have none of it, “Bullshit. You can tell me, you know …”

 

The blonde sighed, “I thought … Never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

“What?” Bard asked, getting slightly annoyed, “What is it?”

 

The blonde rolled his eyes, “I thought what you said before … it was an invitation …”

 

“Well, it was …” Bard said, clearly not understanding what had clouded the other ones’ spirit.

 

Thranduil snorted, “No, I meant … I thought it was an invitation to something else …”

 

The mechanic knitted his eyebrows together in confusion before the penny finally dropped. “Oh. … Oh! I assure you I didn’t … Uh … I would never … Christ, I’m sorry it sounded like that …”

 

Thranduil nodded courtly, “And why should it? Why would you invite the man who almost cast his own son away because he was too terrified of the world whereas you have been nothing but kind to him? It’s fine, really, let’s just pretend that never happened …”

 

“What?!” Bard felt like a parrot, a confused parrot.

 

Thranduil started blushing again, “I just thought because … I have thought because of the play that you are … and you might be … Holy crap, Thranduil, stop talking!”

 

And finally, Bard got the hang of it. The other man thought that he didn’t feel anything for him because of all the things that happened with Legolas. And even if it was true that Bard hadn’t entertained the thought of a romantic/sexual/whatever relationship with the designer it was simply because his mind had been busy with other stuff. Thranduil was breathtakingly beautiful and now that he had gotten to know the other man better than on their first meeting, he could say that he was a kind person who had literally been scarred by life. All in all, he thought that it was worth a try. So before the other man could flee and probably never to be seen again, Bard laid his hand down on Thranduil’s cheek and simply laid his lips on the other mans’. And good Lord, that surprised sound that escaped the blonde’s lips followed by a much more content one did things to Bard stomach he hadn’t felt in a very long time. As both men parted a bit reluctantly after a few moments, Thranduil frowned, “I don’t understand …”

 

Bard grinned, “I thought that … invitation, as you called it, had offended you. That’s why I apologized.” He looked sheepish at the other man.

 

“Why on earth would that offend me?” Thranduil asked incredulously.

 

Now it was Bard who blushed, “You know, you’re … Oh my God, I am about to sound like me teenage kids, but you are the town’s royalty, beautiful and so much above me that I didn’t even entertain the thought that you might be interested in somebody like me.”

 

The blonde snorted, “Of course, why would a hermit like me – and that was a direct quote – be interested in the kindest and most selfless person I have ever met?” The blonde shook his head, “Also, you’re not too hard to look at either, just to be clear about that.”

 

Bard’s blushing continued, “Well, thank you I guess …”

 

Thranduil grinned, “You could also have taken the kiss-slash-bite yesterday as in indicator … for which I have to apologize again.”

 

Bard chuckled, “I thought that in the state you were in at that moment, you would simply have kissed anybody …”

 

Thranduil looked at Bard in mock-offense, “You think me to be that easy?” Bard chuckled and the blonde continued, “Seriously though, I have never been drunk enough – and yesterday’s example wasn’t the worst I am afraid I have to admit – that I would simply kiss anyone. I have been told that I am very picky … with just about everything.”

 

“Again a compliment in disguise?” Bard joked and in response, Thranduil laid his hand on the mechanics, “I can be way more open about them if you want me to.”

 

A shudder ran down Bard’s spine at that comment. “I think I’d like that …” he said, voice thick.

 

The blonde man smiled and leaned in for another kiss that Bard happily succumbed to. The designer’s lips were just as soft as Bard had assumed them to be. Testing the waters, he ran a hand up Thranduil’s neck and started to caress the back of the other man’s neck, which resulted in the blonde sighing contently into the kiss.

 

“It has been ages since anybody has touched me like this …” Thranduil panted once they had parted again.

 

Bard grinned, “We certainly can change that.” And with that Bard pulled the other man in for another kiss which resulted in more little moans of Thranduil and the dark-haired man couldn’t help himself, he just had to moan back. Once they ended their kiss reluctantly, Bard laid his forehead in Thranduil’s, his hand never leaving the other man’s cheek, “As much as I like this, I think we have to stop because I think I just like it _too much_ …” the mechanic admitted as he was well aware of how tight his jeans had gotten.

 

Thranduil chuckled, “Same here. It has been an awfully long time since … well, anything in that department happened.”

 

Bard laughed silently and nodded, “With me as well.” He pulled back to look the blonde in the eyes, his thumb caressing the scars on Thranduil’s cheek, “I think we should take our time with this … What do you think?”

 

Thranduil smiled, “Very wise, Mr. Bowman. And yes, I think it would be the best … Let’s take one step at a time.”

 

Bard nodded and smiled as well, “Sounds good to me.”

 

Thranduil chuckled, “So at least my hangover was good for something …”

 

The mechanic chuckled lightly, “Everything happens for a reason I suppose.”

 

 

Over the next few weeks, Bard and Thranduil did take things slow. First, they met a few more times “in private” as Bain and Tilda weren’t back from their respective camps yet. However, they did not progress any farther than kisses that increasingly grew more heated and holding hands. And even if Bard was almost ashamed of admitting it but considering how much Thranduil’s hands laid upon his face, entwining with his or roaming over his arms burned, he couldn’t fathom how he could stand them in places that were still covered by clothes. Thankfully, the blonde did not seem any better as it seemed that Bard’s touches did just the same to him. And those sounds the other man made … Bard’s face grew hot every time he thought about them.

Once his children had returned, first Tilda and Bain two days later, Bard thought that his smaller two should meet Thranduil properly. Until then they had only seen the other man on a short occasion like at the play at the end of the school year and Tilda in the kitchen once the blonde had come to apologize. However, he did not want to rush things too much and introduce Thranduil as his … yes, his what? Quite simply put, he could not introduce Thranduil as something that he wasn’t even sure himself. And honestly, as much as he actually liked Thranduil and enjoyed spending time with him, as much he was certain he could never be with a man who wasn’t accepted by his children. So there as well, he thought it would be best to be taking things slow – which was why he invited Thranduil for dinner one day once school had just barely started again. And he was promptly scolded by Tilda for the action: “But Da, you can’t cook …”

 

“Why thank you, little one”, Bard laughed and ruffled Tilda’s hair.

 

The girl only rolled her eyes, “No, I mean … Who knows which food he is used to? Surely nothing we eat …”

 

Bard only grinned, knowing that Thranduil had been fine with everything Bard had previously offered him. A fact that he could not share with his youngest. Instead, he thought of something else, “Well then, you are right of course … But Legolas has taught you some things, hasn’t he? So why don’t you help me cook something? More even, I’ll be your assistant and you the chef, how does that sound?” Needless to say, his little girl had been thrilled – and so had Thranduil. Bard realized that he tried to suppress his anxiousness over the phone but the mechanic heard it all the same. So they settled for dinner at Friday as surely Tilda and Bain had a lot to tell about their first week in school, still, Tilda had just returned from the archery camp and had quite a few stories to share about Legolas and Tauriel, which would please Thranduil – supposedly, at least – and above all, he needn’t worry about bringing them to bed early which could cause a huge fuss. It was perfect; well, Bard hoped it was.

 

Once he returned from work on Friday, he quickly checked the kitchen were Tilda already instructed Bain how to properly cook tomato soup. His two darling kids assured him that they had everything under control and that he could take his much needed shower. Which he promptly did, followed by a quick search of his closet where he hoped he could find something at least halfway presentable (although he also knew that Thranduil wouldn’t mind what he would be wearing as in the past weeks he had seen him in grease-smeared clothes and … well, let’s just say he hadn’t minded at all) that wasn’t too obvious either. His smart kids would notice it immediately. So he decided on a pair of nicer-than-usual jeans and a long-armed black shirt. Returning to the kitchen, Tilda had already set out everything for the quiche they were making so the three of them could get started immediately. And by some miracle they managed to not only get the thing in the oven on time but also set the table and put some flowers on the same. In consequence, the kitchen looked truly presentable by the time the knock on their door came – at 7 pm sharp. Thranduil, as Bard had learned, was always exactly on time. He went to open the door and found a similar scene in front of him as the first time the blonde had knocked on their door, looking as dashing and otherworldly as he always did, and with a deliciously smelling pie in his hand. This time though, Thranduil wore a warm smile. “Good evening. I am surprised to say that it smells delicious …”

 

Bard chuckled, “Yes well, I cannot take any of the credit as it has mostly been Tilda’s doing …” Thranduil nodded and grinned. “Come in, please …” Bard quickly added as he realized that they had been staring stupidly at each other for quite some time. “Thank you”, came Thranduil’s short reply and as he _accidently_ pushed past Bard and let his pie-holding hand brush against his abdomen, the mechanic could not help but realize how awkward their formality with each other was. Once Thranduil found himself seated at their decorated kitchen table with Bard’s children, he was glad for their distance again as he – in the present moment – could not imagine doing anything other than, well, _distance_ considering Thranduil and him.

 

However, the situation itself was really good. Bain had been a bit cautious for about as long as the tomato soup lasted, which was the amount of time it had taken Tilda to single the first chuckle out of the blonde. Apparently, their class in school had adopted a frog they had found outside and everybody had been disgusted once the animal had broken free from his (her?) makeshift shelter and fled from the class. Except Tilda of course who had not rested until it had been caught. “I don’t understand … I mean, it isn’t even that slimy …” his little girl had underlined and Bain had only rolled his eyes, “Ungh! Tilda!!! I’m only glad I’ve finished the soup …” And if Bain almost refusing his food wasn’t something to worry about. Bard only raised his eyes while Thranduil cast his eyes onto his own soup and chuckled. “I have to say”, he raised his distinct voice, “that I am siding with Miss Tilda on that one. The frog surely was more afraid of a herd of screaming children that they were of the frog. However, Legolas has always accused me of being too fond of woodland creatures.”

 

“Really? But Legolas had taken me to the woods at night at the camp to watch some deer …” Tilda wondered with huge eyes.

 

“He did what?” Bard asked a bit incredulous. He did trust Legolas, he really did, but taking his smallest out in the woods at night?

 

Thranduil however, asked exactly the same question, but in the softest and fondest tone Bard had ever heard from the other man. Tilda was confused at the different emotional outputs of the two adults at the table, so she simply blinked. “Yes …?” she tried after a few moments of silence, “But it was perfectly safe Da, Tauriel did come too and we all had our bows …”

 

“You had your …” Bard shook his head, “Oh dear! Tilda, please do not stumble into the woods with a bow that you’ve only maintained for a few days anymore. Can you promise me this?” Bard looked expectantly at his little girl who only nodded. “Alright Da, I won’t. Well, I can’t since I don’t have one myself yet … Can I take yours?”

 

Thranduil cast his eyes at Bard in confusion, which Bard not witness. He was too enraged. “Tilda, mine is not for children! It’s way too big for you …”

 

“Can I get one then? For Christmas?” Tilda beamed up at him and Bard sighed. “We’ll see …”

 

“You practiced archery as well?” Thranduil asked once Tilda hopped up and down on her chair.

 

Bain nodded and Bard was happy that he finally said something other than “Ungh!”: “Da competed in the Olympics once …”

 

The blonde raised an eyebrow, “I see …” By the way Thranduil’s lips curled, Bard concluded that he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Quite the opposite in fact. Bard blushed. He just hoped that his kids would mistake it for embarrassment of the mention of his failed career in archery. The designer continued, “I do sense a story behind that … Maybe while we are tending to the deliciously smelling quiche …?”

 

Which was what they did. Well, it was mostly Bain and Tilda who told the story Magda had always entertained them with when Bard was in some competition. To be fair, it was mostly Bain as soon after Tilda’s birth, Bard’s career had ceased … for reasons too well known to them all. Apparently, Magda had made it sound like he was some sort of super hero – at least that’s what he concluded from his abilities that his dear wife apparently had greatly overrated. So he was just left with dubbing his children’s enthusiasm while retelling his great adventures.

Also, their quiche was surprisingly delicious … considering that he had helped.

 

“So how does a former Olympic competitor come to work in a … rather mediocre garage, if you don’t mind me saying so?” Thranduil asked.

 

Bard sighed, “I had no choice. Magda got sick and … we needed steady money and I needed to be there to help her. I simply couldn’t travel the world as if I had nothing on my mind …”

 

Tilda piped up, “But you could start again …”

 

Bard chuckled and ruffled her hair, “I’m afraid those days are over, my darling.”

 

“But you could open your own garage …” Bain said and Bard only rolled his eyes. That again. “I am only saying that most of the clients are there because of you Da, and for that, they simply exploit you way too much. If you went away, at least … four quarters of the clients would follow. And the Master would have to shut down as nobody else really has any clue what to do there.” Bain explained before he dug into the quiche again.

 

“That’s not fair, Bain, there is always Percy …” Bard scolded his son.

 

The addressed one only rolled his eyes, “You would take Percy with you, obviously.”

 

Bard’s lips curled, “Obviously.” He fondly shook his head.

 

Thranduil crooked his neck, “You do not like your job, Bard?”

 

The mechanic sighed, “That’s not true, I like being a mechanic. I have always liked building or repairing something with my own hands. Let’s just say, the environment could be a different, meaning a friendlier one.”

 

“The Master does not pay Da when he works overtime …” Tilda explained. “Yeah, and he always threatens his employees that he is going to fire them if they want to take a few days off for holidays and stuff.” Bain supplied, “Plus he and Alfrid are always really mean …” Tilda replied again.

 

“Now, now! I think that is enough for one day … it is the weekend, after all and I have tomorrow and Sunday off, which is practically a miracle.” Bard scolded his children. He didn’t want Thranduil to think that he was complaining about his work. The blonde however, only drew his eyebrows together in concentration, “It sounds to me that they do not value your work enough … More so because it has been brought to my attention that you are indeed the only one who knows what he is doing.”

 

Bard listened up at that one, “Really? Who said so?”

 

Thranduil waved his hand dismissively, “A good friend of mine visited once … and his car broke down. He had to take it there thrice until he had you looking at it. Then it worked again.”

 

“Really, who was it? Maybe I’ll remember him …” Bard wondered.

 

“His name is Elrond. Tall man, brown hair, somewhat like mine; he dresses similar too. I guess us artsy people are somewhat alike, if we like to hear it or not …” the blonde chuckled, “He drives an old, burgundy Aston Martin. But don’t ask me about the model, I know nothing of cars I’m afraid.”

 

In fact, Bard did remember. To be fair, no one forgot a car like that: “Yes, I think I do remember him. Well, his car at least. But this has to be a few years back if I am not mistaken. He’s a kind of sarcastically-funny guy, isn’t he?”

 

Thranduil chuckled and nodded, “Yes, that described Elrond perfectly. And it surely must be quite a few years as Arwen has still been rather small back then,” Thranduil mused. “She is Elrond’s daughter, you see.”

 

Now it was Bard who knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, “Arwen? As in Aragorn’s girlfriend?” Now that explained why Legolas was so reluctant to interfere with Aragorn’s relationship … or even try it.

 

Thranduil however, didn’t seem to know anything about that, “What? Aragorn and Arwen? That’s ridiculous, she’s only sixteen so she is much too young …”

 

Bard could only chuckle, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that …” After that he finished the last piece of his slice of quiche. Thranduil, in turn, stared on his. After what seemed an eternity, he spoke up again, “Is Legolas seeing someone?!”

 

Now Bard had to laugh out loudly, most of all due to the exasperated tone of Thranduil’s voice, “I assure you, I do not know. And even if I did, I think it would not be my place to tell you about your son’s private life.”

 

“I …” the blonde broke off and stared onto his by then empty plate. Bain looked at Bard with raised eyebrows and Tilda looked anything but smug. Bard wondered if she knew anything. She had been together with Legolas and Tauriel for two weeks after all.

 

Once the blonde had regained his composure again, he straightened himself. “In the light of recent events, I would much appreciate some pie. Better more than less. Anyone with me?” As Bain and Tilda wailed with excitement, the topic seemed forgotten for the night. However, once Bard brought Thranduil to the door as he had bid goodbye to his children, the blonde pulled Bard out onto the porch and let the door slide close.

 

“That went quite well, don’t you think?” Bard asked but was interrupted by the blonde: “Do you really not know about Legolas?”

 

Bard rolled his eyes, “No I don’t, I’ve told you as much. Besides, don’t you think he’ll tell you once something important happens? I understand that your relationship is much improved now …”

 

“It is but … Never mind. Yes, the evening went well. I have to say I was a little worried at the beginning …”

 

Bard chuckled, “Bain’s a teenager, you know how that is …”

 

“Indeed”, Thranduil nodded, “He was eyeing his fork quite intensely. I was afraid that he would attempt to slay me with it.”

 

Bard chuckled, “I think he would have chosen the knife. But the pie sealed the deal in the opposite direction if his three pieces were anything to go by …”

 

Thranduil grinned, “Do you think they’d let me come by again? With a pie?”

 

The mechanic grinned at the hand that slid up his forearm. “You are allowed to come by even without a pie …”

 

“My, my! And by what have I gained that particular privilege?” Thranduil smirked.

 

Bard raised one eyebrow, “You haven’t yet. That however can change if you kiss me …”

 

“Is that so?” the blonde smirked and slowly pulled Bard towards him before he laid his lips caringly onto the dark-haired mans’. Bard quickly sighed into the kiss and let his hand wander to Thranduil’s cheek. The blonde however almost jumped back.

 

“What’s the matter?” Bard asked worriedly but the other man only shook his head, “I don’t … They are so ugly, please don’t touch them …”

 

Bard already wanted to ask what on earth the blonde meant but then he realized that he had lain his hand upon the other man’s scars. He chuckled, “I almost didn’t get what you meant there. Thranduil, how often do I have to tell you, they are anything but ugly! I barely even see them anymore.” The blonde cast his eyes on the ground and Bard could see that he blushed slightly. He pulled the other man closer to him again. “I would very much like to show you how little I care about them”, Bard whispered into Thranduil’s ear, “But I’m afraid time is too scarce for that …” The blonde shuddered slightly which painted a smug grin onto Bard’s face.

 

“I’d … I’d like that. Very much”, Thranduil answered almost shyly. “You’ll have to think of an excuse to visit me in my very deserted house though …”

 

Bard grinned, “I’ll think of something.” He pecked the other man on the lips again, “Thank you for coming by today, it meant a lot.”

 

“Thank you for having me. It truly was a pleasure. Good night, my beautiful mechanic.” Thranduil said and squeezed Bard’s hand before he turned and walked over to his car. Bard leaned against the wall of his house and waved at Thranduil once he started the vehicle. As he drove off into the night, Bard returned to his house where he was faced with a very determined looking Tilda standing in the corridor: “Da, I think that Thranduil was making ad … advances at you tonight?”

 

To say Bard was taken aback by the statement of his little girl and wondered if she had seen them on the porch. Still, he tried to keep the upwelling panic in check and knelt down in front of her: “And what makes you think that, my darling?”

 

“You mean besides him eye-fucking you the whole time we had dinner?” Bain shouted from the living room.

 

“BAIN!! Language! Where on earth did you get that from anyway?” Bard shouted back and had a hard time not to blush. Had they been that obvious? “Plus the Swear Glass is awaiting your contribution.” His dear boy came out the living room with twice the amount of coins in his hand, “I’ll pay double just to emphasize that Legolas’ Da was eye-fucking you the whole time.” His dear fifteen year-old boy looked more than smug.

 

“Bain! Seriously, that’s enough! Stop it right this instant or I’ll ground you for a week.” It wasn’t so much the fact that Bain obviously had taken up on their chemistry that kept bugging him but more his way of phrasing it. He knew that kids picked up almost everything in school these days but seriously, eye-fucking?!

 

“What it eye-fucking?” Tilda wanted to know and Bard pointed at his youngest with a pointed look at Bain, “See … I hope you are happy now.”

 

“I am indeed”, Bain grinned and hopped into the kitchen, his disappearance followed by the clinking of coins into their Swear Glass.

 

“Da?” Tilda asked again and Bard rolled his eyes. “Alright, but Tilda? I do not want you to use that phrase, is that clear?” His little girl nodded animatedly – so much that her braids bounced up and down next to her head.

 

“Alright … uhm, _eye-fucking_ means that if one person who is attracted to another person keeps looking at the same all the time with … well, uh a certain longing in his eyes. It’s basically intense staring.” Bard left the lust part out on purpose. This talk would come soon enough, thank you very much!

 

“I see”, Tilda continued her nodding, “Then Legolas’ Da was definitely … you know …”

 

Bard exhaled rather noisily, “I liked your way of phrasing things way better. Keep sticking to the advances, dear. But why do you think so?” the mechanic wanted to know.

 

“You told me once that advances means that somebody likes to spend time with the person he likes and brings gifts and stuff …” Tilda rattled on and Bard had to grin. “Something like that, yes. … So?”

 

Tilda grinned her toothy grin, “He brought pie twice, Da.”

 

Now Bard couldn’t help himself, he had to burst into a fit of laughter. Apparently, pie was everything. “You certainly are right, darling. Can I ask you something?” The braids were bouncing up and down again, “Would you mind if he did, though?”

 

She smiled, “Nope. He is nice, even though we didn’t think that he was in the beginning. And he is really pretty too. And he makes you smile which is a good thing. So he can continue … uh … making advances I guess.”

 

“Same here”, Bain said as he walked by, “Just cease the … _intense staring_ … while I’m eating.” A shit-eating grin followed at which Bard could only roll his eyes at. Had he been equally insufferable when he had been fifteen? He was almost certain that he had been …

 

 

After he had told Thranduil about his children’s consent – and really, he heard the relief over the phone – the blonde came by more often. He talked to Bain about his herbs which had extended again and he told Tilda how to cook Legolas’ favorite dinner as he had already called and told them that he would be returning home only at Christmas but promised that he would visit. And then, Thranduil also braided his daughter’s hair which really melted Bard’s heart. How quickly the reclusive man had warmed to his children – and they to him – just showed him how much the other man had changed since their confrontation. Which was why one Saturday evening he sent Thranduil a text that he should make up some urgent reason that had him come over. Which the blonde did – on their land line. Very wise, Bard had to say.

 

“Da?” Bain hollered through the house, “Legolas’ Da wants to speak to you …”

 

Bard arrived and took the offered device. “Thranduil?” he asked and felt more than ridiculous. Like he was a teenager again, trying desperately to get away from his parents.

 

“Ah yes … Bard. I am afraid I blew up my car”, the much too familiar voice on the other end of the line said.

 

“What do you mean you blew up your car?!” Bard asked, with as much terror as it was possible. The terrifying thing was that Thranduil sounded as though he meant every word and Bard had to fight the ridiculous image of the blonde setting his car on fire.

 

“I mean …” and now the mock in his voice made it clear that he had only been kidding, “… that I did something, there was a loud bang and now it won’t start anymore. As the only garage in town doesn’t treat its employees very well I would rather you came by and looked at it yourself. Of course I’m offering compensation for your inconveniences …” Oh how well Bard could picture the smirk on the other man’s face right at that moment.

 

He cleared his throat, “Well, that sounds like it will take some time. I’ll get going immediately.”

 

“Pray do, I’ll anxiously await your arrival then. See you in a few …” And with that, the blonde hung up the phone.

 

Bard did the same. “Bain? Tilda? … Thranduil has … well, I do not know what exactly it was that he did to his car but it sounds like it will take some time. Will you be fine while I’m gone?”

 

Tilda ensured him that they would be but made Bard promise that he brought the other man her very best greetings. Bain only smirked and saluted. Having his son promise that he would look after his sister and call if anything came up, he got into his own car and drove towards the Greenleaf mansion, with absolutely dry palms. Why would he have sweaty palms after all? Ridiculous!

 

As he got out of the car, Thranduil already awaited him with his characteristic smirk in the doorway. Bard grinned at him in return. “So …” he started while walking up to the other man, “you blew up your car then?”

 

“Hm, yes, afraid so …” the blonde confirmed, mischief sparkling in his eyes, “I’m afraid it will take a few hours at least until it can be fixed.”

 

Bard stepped up to Thranduil, “Is that so?”

 

“At least”, the other man confirmed whilst sneaking his arms around Bard’s waist, “… but I’m afraid that today is a bad day for trips back home at night. The forecast says buckets and buckets of rain. It would be highly irresponsible of me to let you drive home in that weather.”

 

Bard chuckled, “How lucky I am to have my clients worry about me that much.”

 

“Indeed, very lucky”, Thranduil whispered and his hot breath ghosted over Bard’s face because they were that close already.

 

“Hi”, Bard said and grinned stupidly. Thranduil smiled back, “Glad you could make it.”

Their lips finally met in some sort of a welcome-kiss, but the same turned to something else quite quickly. They had waited a rather long time after all. Bard laid his hand carefully on Thranduil’s that was pulling at Bard’s shirt. “We should take this inside, don’t you think?” he smirked. The blonde only bit his lips and nodded. “Again, very wise.”

 

As Bard was pulled into the mansion by his hand, he couldn’t do anything other than gape. It really _was_ a mansion. With stairways leading up to the upper levels (yes, plural) and everything. Bard couldn’t help but think that Tilda would love this. He could practically hear her chanting, “It’s like a castle in a fairy tale!” His wonder did not go unnoticed. Thranduil sighed, “Yes I know, it’s a bit over the top. However, I am vain, you know that. Can I give you the grand tour later?”

 

Bard chuckled and nodded, “I think if we started the grand tour now we wouldn’t get to what I came here for.” Thranduil looked sheepishly at him so he continued, “Repairing the car, of course.”

 

“A man of reason, that’s what I like about you”, Thranduil teased and placed another kiss onto the mechanic’s lips. “Why don’t we start with the bedroom then?”

 

“Sounds good to me”, Bard replied and he was promptly pulled upstairs and found himself watching with amazement as corridors passed by. “How on earth do you guys find your way around in here?” Bard asked half-jokingly as he was sure he would get lost.

 

Thranduil grinned back at him, “Only a matter of practice …” The blonde opened a door to his right, “But here we are already.” Once they entered the room, Bard was afraid that he looked like a fish – which probably wasn’t sexy. At all. And hence did not serve their purpose. But seriously, who slept in a cream-colored bedroom with silver and golden accents? Now not even he himself could deny it: It did look like something straight out of a fairy tale.

 

He heard Thranduil chuckle, “And here I was, thinking that you be looking at me like that” which made Bard laugh. “You have been to our house … Can you really blame me?”

 

“Oh I don’t know”, Thranduil said and moved over to sit down on his four poster bed, “I like your home. It is well lived-in.” Bard laughed again, “That’s a very nice way to put it.” Thranduil smiled. “Take your time. I’ll just wait here until you’re done …” The blonde raised a challenging eyebrow.

 

Bard chuckled and walked over to the bed. “No matter how beautiful your bedroom is, it is nothing compared to you.” That had Thranduil blush furiously, “Now you are putting things nicely …”

 

“Nothing but the truth …” Bard grinned and bowed down to capture Thranduil’s lips in another kiss. His tongue gently tracing the other man’s lips he carefully let his hand travel up the other man’s neck to his face, his thumb stroking the scarred skin lightly. The blonde sighed contently and let his hands travel under Bard’s loose shirt. And goddamn, the mechanic just knew that the touch would be searing but not like this! A loud moan escaped his throat and was swallowed by Thranduil’s hungry lips. Apparently, this was all the encouragement that blonde needed as he pulled the mechanic down onto the bed with him. Standing there a bit awkwardly at first, Bard then kneeled onto the bed, straddling the other man’s hips. Thranduil hummed approvingly.

Once they broke apart for much needed air – albeit reluctantly – Bard said: “I think we should be moving back a little …” The blonde panted heavily, pupils already blown wide but nodded just as well and shifted his body back on the bed. Bard moved with him, happy that he didn’t have worry about falling off the edge of the bed quite unceremoniously anymore. He carefully sat down on Thranduil’s lower belly and ran his hands through the silken hair of the other man, most uncomfortably aware of how dirty is hands looked. No matter how much the mechanic scrubbed, the remnants of oil never seemed to vanish completely. “You are so beautiful Thranduil …” Bard rambled, “What on earth do you want with me?”

 

At that, the other man sat up as best as he could. “Now stop that bullshit at once, Bard!” Quite taken aback by the tone of the other man’s voice, Bard kneeled back slightly to which Thranduil rose his torso a bit further. “I am not going to have any of it … again, I want to mention.” Now it was Bard who blushed. “You are the most magnificent man I have ever met, inside and out so please stop that unfathomable insecurity and take off your shirt already.” Bard chuckled at that and nodded solemnly. Once he pulled his shirt over his head, Thranduil took in a sharp breath. “I just want to emphasize again how stupid that insecurity of yours is … I mean … ungh!” Thranduil bit his lip and let one hand travel along Bard’s side upwards. The mechanic smiled at the careful movement. “It’s fine, you know”, he leaned in so he could whisper against Thranduil’s cheeks, “you are allowed to touch as much as you like. The more, the better”, he added before he started kissing down the blonde’s elegant neck. In turn, Thranduil’s hands were roaming his back. Both men moaned and Bard decided it would be a good idea to attack the blonde’s mouth in order to prevent him from blurting out something stupid. As their tongues battled for dominance, Bard could feel that Thranduil arched up into him more frequently. “Everything alright?” Bard said once he reluctantly pulled his mouth off Thranduil’s soft lips. The dazed look in the other man’s eyes would have been answer enough for Bard, but the blonde helpfully supplied that: “More than alright. I think it’s a little … too alright, if you understand what I mean.” Bard chuckled and nodded in understanding. He could relate to the feeling all too well.

 

“I see … Should we take the edge off then?” he asked and pecked the other man’s nose. Thranduil blushed again, “It’s more than embarrassing but I think it would be for the best …” Bard nodded again and moved back slightly. “Very well then. Still, we are wearing too much clothes …” And really, was there any sexy way to get rid of one’s jeans (which were only sexy until they were opened because then you had to get out of them without tangling your legs too much) and socks? He seriously doubted it. Once he had gotten out of them, however, he noticed that Thranduil had only removed his pants as well. Bard raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“I don’t want … uh … would you mind if I didn’t – take them off?” Thranduil stuttered and Bard didn’t quite get why. “Uhm sure … if you’re more comfortable that way …” he offered a bit awkwardly. The blonde sighed, “It’s just … I …”

 

“It’s fine, seriously …” Bard offered and it truly was. Even though Bard wanted to know how the other man looked beyond these tunics and he burned to run his hands over the porcelain skin of Thranduil, he did not want to do anything that made the other man uncomfortable. Once they both had gotten rid of their underpants as well, Bard lay down next to the blonde and captured his lips in a caring kiss again. Instantly, Thranduil was back at making _these noises_ again and roaming Bard’s torso with his hands. “Oh God, I don’t think I need much else …” the designer panted and threw his head back in ecstasy once Bard let his hand travel up the blonde’s leg. As the dark-haired man selfishly wanted to enjoy the other’s moans a little longer, he did not go straight for the man’s penis which was to no surprise about as beautiful as everything else of Thranduil, but let his hands go further up and caress his sides. “No …” the blonde moaned, and then a bit more firm, “No, Bard. Don’t.” That had the other man stop. “What is it Thranduil? You can tell me …” As no other sound came from the other man, Bard sighed. “How am I supposed to make you enjoy this when I don’t know what I am allowed to do and what I don’t … Never mention why.”

 

Thranduil sighed. “Could you just leave out the torso?”

 

Bard rolled his eyes, “That’s what I meant! Thranduil, I’ll happily leave out your torso if you tell me why.”

 

“It’s just that it is so disgusting …” the blonde said and averted his eyes. Bard only shook his head, “What, what is it that you think to be disgusting?”

 

Thranduil snorted in annoyance, “My scars for crying out loud! My scars! I can’t stand them …”

 

“WHAT?!” Bard said and once he had a moment to comprehend what he had just heard, he couldn’t help himself: He started to chuckle. Thranduil, if anything, only got more annoyed by the second, “I fail to see the amusement in this …”

 

Bard did his best to stop his giggles, “Sorry. I’m sorry … Let me ask you, Thranduil, do they hurt?” The blonde shook his head. Bard nodded, “Do I have to take extra care because the area is sensitive or is there any danger of the reopening of a wound or something?” And really, he was more than proud for the logic he could muster up with his dick red and demanding against his belly.

 

“No, what are you talking about?” Thranduil said, his own arousal clearly decreasing.

 

“Then I am sorry to tell you”, Bard started, “that you are a huge idiot, Thranduil Oropherion-Greenleaf. Take off the tunic.”

 

“I already told you …” the blonde started but Bard pinned the blonde’s hands above his head and pushed the designer down on the bed. “Overcome your own stupidity and take that blasted tunic off. I have already told you … and maybe this is like with me being afraid of staining your white sheets with my oily hands … but I think you are – amazing, for the lack of another word, with scars or without them. I do not mind them a single bit. You’ll have to take my word for it. And quite frankly, considering how you were roaming your hands over my chest just seconds ago, I think you to be very selfish.” Bard smiled cheekily and hoped that the joke would be recognized.

 

Thranduil huffed, “I am a spoiled designer, I am meant to be selfish.” Bard only raised his eyebrows at which the blonde sighed, “No arguments about it?”

 

“Nope!” Bard grinned. “Alright … Alright … But you’ll have to get off of my hands for that.”

 

Bard pulled back and sat up while Thranduil slowly removed his garments. Once he was done and threw the tunic off his bed, he looked at Bard much like Tilda did when she was in one of her moods. “Are you happy now?” the distinct voice mocked him. Bard’s grin only widened. “Very much. And may I just tell you again that you are stupid? The scars are not that bad …”

 

Thranduil huffed, “Maybe not, but they are not that nice to look at either, are they?”

 

Bard framed the other man’s face with his hands caringly, “I. Do. Not. Mind. Them.”

 

“Understood”, Thranduil said and Bard kissed him in order to make his point. The blonde was clearly overreacting. Once had started kissing down Thranduil’s neck again, the other man spoke, “It’s just … I told you that the blanket caught fire? That’s why they are worse down there than on my face …” Bard brought his face up to look Thranduil in his blue eyes. “They are a part of you and made you who you are today. Somebody that I happen to care about a real lot, so I hope you believe me that you do not have to spare them any more thoughts.” Both men smiled at each other and Bard kissed Thranduil languidly. “Now, where were we …?” he murmured and scooted down so he could kiss every inch of newly freed skin. When he was about to move from one rosy and proudly standing nipple to another, less proudly standing and slightly scarred one, Thranduil let out a long wail. Immediately, Bard stopped. “Did I do something?” The blonde shook his head, “No it’s just … I’m already so close …” Bard grinned into Thranduil’s chest while he let his hand wander down to the blonde’s leaking member. As soon as his hand had made contact with the aroused flesh, Thranduil wailed again and his hand practically flew into Bard’s hair and started tugging. “Ah!” the blonde exclaimed as the mechanic started stroking. “AH!” Thranduil’s back arched off the bed after a few more strokes. The dark-haired man grinned again against the piece of skin he was just about to kiss and whispered, “That’s it, darling, don’t hold back”, Bard encouraged and Thranduil started tossing his head from side to side. “Oh God … Oh … Bar-“ The mechanic felt the body under him tense before it started shaking uncontrollably. Accompanied by a lout “Ungh!” Bard felt streams of hot cum against his hand. Still, he kept pumping the other man’s member until Thranduil had stopped shaking and he gave a loud exhale.

Not sure how to progress properly, Bard simple waited. He brought his hand up to the blonde’s hair and stroke a damp strand off Thranduil’s forehead before he laid a single kiss on the other man’s lips. A few seconds later, hazy blue eyes opened. “Just …” Thranduil’s voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat, “Just give me another second …” Bard smiled, “As long as you need …” and laid another kiss on the other man’s temple, his hand never stopping to caress Thranduil’s face.

 

After a few more moments, the blonde looked up. “I think you should clean your other hand …” he stated and Bard curled his lips into a smile. “That would be wise, yes. Do you have a tissue or something?” Bard looked onto the bedside table but couldn’t see anything appropriate to wipe his hand with. Thranduil smirked, “No but that won’t be a problem …” He let his hand wander down Bard’s arm, pulled his hand up by his wrist and before Bard knew what was happening to him, he found himself getting his finders sucked clean by the designer. Bard groaned out loudly, again painfully aware of how hard he still was. “Christ …” he breathed but wasn’t able to tear his gaze away from those soft lips wrapped around one of his fingers. If they could to things like that to him while only tending to his hand, he couldn’t even imagine … Bard groaned out another time, adjusting his hips slightly so he could rub his erection against Thranduil’s hip. “Is that okay …?” Bard asked but Thranduil only hummed around his fingers and used his free hand to push Bard’s ass closer to his own body. The mechanic couldn’t say how long it had taken him to come, he was only painfully aware of the little needy gasps that escaped his mouth. Once he felt the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, he bit his lip. “Thranduil I’m … I’m gonna …” The blonde sucked two fingers into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks … and Bard was done for. With a shout that got caught in his throat and an embarrassingly twitching erection, he came between their two bodies before he collapsed next to the other man.

 

Once he had caught his breath again, he opened his eyes and found a smiling Thranduil looking intently at him. “Hey there!” Bard croaked. Thranduil leaned down and kissed him lovingly. Bard again moved his hand up to caress the scarred side of the blonde’s face. After the kiss, Thranduil lay his head down onto Bard’s shoulder and somehow arranged his body so they could snuggle together. And really now, if anybody would have told Bard a few months ago he would find himself in a situation like he did now he would have started to laugh uncontrollably.

 

“That was … embarrassingly quick but also highly intense”, the blonde mumbled into Bard’s skin and the mechanic chuckled. “Nothing to add on my account. Except that it felt really good.” He felt Thranduil’s lips curve into a smile against his shoulder. “Indeed … I …” he bit his lips – something else Bard could only feel – but didn’t continue.

 

“What?” the dark-haired man wanted to know. He suddenly felt something hot against his shoulder and cast his eyes down as best as he could. “Are you blushing?”

 

“Hmpf” was the only reply he got. It made him chuckle throatily. “Come on, what is it? Considering the events of only moments ago, it cannot be that embarrassing …”

 

Thranduil sighed, “I really like your hands Bard.” The addressed one raised his eyebrows. “My hands?” The blonde nodded, “They are rough … I – I like that.”

 

“You do?” Bard asked surprised. Personally, he tried to smoothen his hands constantly but to no avail. Another nod. The mechanic smirked, “Where do you like the roughness?” The skin against his shoulder grew even hotter as the other man mumbled something. “What was that?” Bard asked and couldn’t hide his grin anymore. “I said everywhere …” The dark-haired man chuckled, “Good to know …”

 

“I’m sorry I was that … quick”, Thranduil mumbled after a few moments of companionable silence but Bard only shook his head, “Don’t be. I have surely been as desperate as you – if not more …”

The blonde moved his head a bit, “I highly doubt it. After all, I haven’t, well, let anyone close since the fire …” Bard felt incredibly touched by the declaration, “And I want you to know that I cannot tell you how much it means to me that I am the person you deem worthy enough to take that place. However long it has been for you though, I’m sure you have more experience with men than I do. So please forgive me my clumsiness …”

 

Thranduil raised his head, “What on earth do you mean? You are not clumsy … Well, at least I cannot complain.” Bard smiled and explained, “Well, I only had a few very brief encounters with men before I met Magda. Only one of them remotely resembled a relationship so my knowledge of … sustainable love-making are rather limited as most of the time it has been rutting desperately against each other. Hormones and such …”

 

Thranduil snorted, “Ah yes, I am aware. But don’t worry, your rutting has been very sexy …” Bard chuckled and tightened his arms around Thranduil. They lay there for quite some time, caressing the other’s body and talking lovingly to each other like they had all the time in the world. Which basically they did – Bard was sure that the situation at home was under control. So when his hand moved over one of the too perfect buttocks of the blonde, the same gasped and Bard acknowledged that he could also use a second, less hurried round. After exploring the other man’s body most thoroughly, Bard moved down, instructed Thranduil to lift his hips so he could move a cushion under his perfect ass and he started to kiss his was around down there. To be honest, he had only done that once, back in the day with Malik, his only gay relationship so far, and his memory was a bit fogged. But considering Thranduil’s desperate gasps, interrupted one time by a “Good God Ba-ard! Are you sure you haven’t done this in years?” he figured that he didn’t do a poor job all things considered. Once they had awkwardly cleared the logistics, namely that Thranduil wanted to stay the bottom for now – “Seriously, if you are half as talented with your dick as you are with your tongue, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Thranduil grinned and Bard had blushed – he started properly preparing the other man with some lube, provided by the designer. And the sounds of the same weren’t helping. Bard was sure he had never heard anything so erotic in his life. Once he had rolled on a condom and pushed past that still tight ring of muscle, Thranduil’s elegant legs over his tanned shoulders, Bard surely was happy that the house was empty. And that it stood alone. Even though it was big it would have been likely that the neighbors would have heard. Thranduil moaned and gasped, sometimes interrupted by an incoherent praise of Bard’s abilities that was soon followed by an “AHH!” or an “Oh God!” Bard, himself more on the grunting and heavily sweating side, only got vocal when he felt his second orgasm approaching. Moving in deeply again, his hands resting on Thranduil’s legs over his shoulders and kissing the blonde’s ankles, he panted “Thran … I’m close …” in warning. “Ungh … Good”, the blonde exclaimed, erection resting heavily on his belly, “Me too. Deeper Bard … Deep-OH GOD YES!” Bard groaned and leaned slightly forward, parting Thranduil’s legs in the process. “AH! AAHHH! YES! Like that … I’m almost … Hngh!” and with that the porcelain body under him arched up and shook with every hot and forceful streak of cum, each accompanied by a loud shout. As Bard felt the walls of the blonde clench along with them, he slumped forward as he came too with a single cry.

 

They lay together for long moments afterwards, both catching their breath. “Holy shit, that was amazing …” Thranduil panted, quite unlike himself and Bard chuckled into his chest. “You might well say so …” he replied. After a few languid kisses both men got reminded of the drying cum on both of their bodies. In consequence, the blonde led Bard into the adjoining bathroom – this house had adjoining bathrooms – where Bard cleaned himself rather quickly while Thranduil took his time. And why didn’t that surprise Bard?

 

As Bard was already in the bedroom again and collected his clothes, he heard a strange sound that he classified as a telephone a few moments later. “Thranduil? Your phone is ringing …”

 

“Mobile or land line?” came the voice from the bathroom.

 

Bard looked around but as he saw the mobile lying with a dark screen on the bedside table, he shouted back “Land line.”

 

“Shit! … Could you please pick it up and ask what they want?” the designer asked and Bard felt like a deer in the headlights. Still he stuck his head out of the bedroom and hurried over to where he spotted the device sitting on a nearby coffee table. “Hello?” Bard asked because he didn’t know anything better to say answering the land line of a man who he had just had mind-blowing sex with.

 

“Bard?!” asked the voice on the other end of the line. _‘Bloody Hell!’_

 

“Legolas?” Bard asked and was sure he would die of embarrassment even though the teen surely couldn’t see him blushing like a tomato.

 

“What are you doing at my father’s?” the boy asked surprised but not without a hint of amusement in his voice. Bard thought it wisest to stick to the original reason, aka the white lie: “He blew up his car and asked me to have a look at it …” He just hoped that he sounded convincing. Legolas’ chuckle told him otherwise, “Right …”

 

“What does that mean?” Bard wanted to know.

 

The teenager sighed, “Bard, my father rarely even uses the car, let alone do something as to blow it up. Which – if that were true – does not explain why you are answering his phone when you should be checking on the car. … And why he didn’t answer any of the five calls I gave him in the last hour on his mobile.” Bard smashed his head against the green wall to his left. _‘Oh my dear God …’_

 

“Never mind”, Legolas continued, clearly amused, “I surely do not want to know the details. Just as well, I wanted to ask him something and … well, you too actually, as Sig invited us to your Christmas Dinner.”

 

“Yes?” Bard wanted to know, desperate for anything that might lead the attention away from … well, them.

 

“I wanted to know if I … uhm … can bring someone? To your dinner I mean … Well, and _home_ , for that matter.” Bard grinned involuntarily, “You met someone?”

 

“Yes, well … I don’t know, it’s still really early but … You’ll see …” Legolas answered.

 

Bard beamed, “Of course you can bring someone! To my dinner I mean … and I’ll ask your Dad too. Oh that’s amazing news Legolas! I’m so happy for you …”

 

Legolas chuckled, “We’ll see if my father is as well. If he doesn’t seem convinced maybe you could … _convince_ him.”

 

“Legolas Greenleaf! Mind out of the gutter, that’s an order!” Bard joked and both chuckled before they said their goodbyes. Then Bard made his way into the bedroom again, where Thranduil was still in the shower. Once the shower spray was turned off, the voice of the blonde echoed in the bathroom, “Who was it?”

 

Bard grinned smugly, “Legolas …” Something hit the floor, probably a bottle of shower gel or something but otherwise there was utter silence. So Bard evilly continued, “I tried to play the thing with the car but after you haven’t picked up your mobile for the last hour I’m afraid he had made his own conclusions …” The unceremonious yelp and the following sounds coming from the bathroom led Bard to the conclusion that the other man had almost slipped and barely caught himself on the glass door of the shower – which was confirmed once he stuck his head into the bathroom and saw Thranduil clinging to the door. “Are you okay?” Bard asked and the blonde shot him one of those “Are you kidding me?”- glances. “My son has just accidentally found out that I had sex with the father of one of his friends … What do you think?!” he answered sarcastically and maneuvered himself out of the shower as best as he could. Bard bit his lip and almost felt bad for his next statement – well, almost. “He wanted to ask if he could bring someone over for Christmas …” To be fair, Bard had braced himself for the events that followed – which was Thranduil twisting his foot on the floor mat and hence set for crashing to the floor with an “Oh for the love of …” – so the mechanic caught him mid-fall.

 

After he arrived back at his house again – after biding Thranduil goodbye most thoroughly and with an abundance of kisses – he just knew that Bain knew. Somehow. His son might have suspected something before but now Bard wondered if he knew for sure as something had changed. He did his best to act as if he didn’t notice the glances of his son and was more occupied with answering Tilda’s questions about the mansion. But suddenly his phone buzzed and that held all the answers he needed. The text was from Sigrid and read: _Hi Da! What were you guys up to today?_ And if that wasn’t suspicious he didn’t know what was. The texts of his eldest were never that random. How well he could picture the scene: Legolas calling her happily blabbering about the events of this late afternoon.

He smiled at his phone and texted back: _Why do you ask if you already know, dearest daughter?_

 

As only seconds later the phone rang Bard had to laugh. He had barely taken the call until his eldest practically screamed into the phone, “So it’s true then?!”

 

“Well hello my darling, it is so lovely to hear from you again …” Bard said with a fond roll of his eyes.

 

Sigrid only huffed, “Don’t change the subject! How on earth did that happen?! I mean … Mr. Oropherion-Greenleaf? He’s practically a block of ice …” There were chuckles in the background and one “Now that is a bit unfair …” that sounded uncannily like Tauriel. Apparently she was paying them – meaning Aragorn and his daughter – a visit.

 

Bard answered, “I have to agree with the red-head who is apparently visiting you: That is a bit harsh. There’s always more to a person than sometimes really unfortunate first meetings suggest … Also, could you please not again discuss my private life when there is an audience present, Sigrid dear?”

 

“I’m sorry Da but …” Bard was sure she was gesticulating wildly, “… Legolas called and told me that you picked up the phone in his Da’s house and … sounded …. Well, not going there …” Chuckles again, at which Bard rolled his eyes, “I just can’t believe it. … Neither can Tauriel, for that matter …”

 

“That’s not true Mr. Bowman” the voice of the red-head came from the background, “I only said that it is hard to imagine, which I won’t, just for the record … even though the both of you are rather hot.”

 

Bard only gasped while Sigrid only voiced an “Eeww, Tauriel!” and some protests from someone who sounded suspiciously like the two brothers, the nephews of Thorin Oakenshield they had met at the play, were with them. It was clear that Tauriel had something going on with the dark-haired one, but why exactly the other one – Fíli, if Bard wasn’t mistaken – was there made him curious. He guessed that two could play that game his daughter was set on: “Sigrid, I am so happy that it appears that you are having a good time at college. Say, did the two brothers come over accidentally or on purpose?”

 

“DA!” his eldest exclaimed and Bard grinned to himself. Sigrid continued, “I am not sure I like that cheeky enarmored you, I have to say”, she added a bit more jokingly. Bard had to chuckle, “Oh darling, I was thinking the exact same thing about you …”

 

“I am going to hang up now …” she announced and Bard chanted a “Love you, Sigrid …” into the phone before it was too late. Shaking his head and smiling fondly, Bard laid his mobile down. So it had been how he had predicted: The children had their own shadow network of communication. He should tell Thranduil about that …

 

 

Funnily enough, after the bumpy start, everything clicked into place quite smoothly. The visits of Thranduil became a constant in their lives, and once the designer had invited Bard and his two present children to his house one night, Tilda was, as predicted, ecstatic. So ecstatic in fact, that they had to come back three times until the little girl had seen every corner of the mansion. And Thranduil was surprisingly patient with his smallest, explaining each and everything in great detail while Bain retreated to the library to check out all the books Thranduil owned about gardening – which were rather many, as Bard had gotten to find out. After Bard had made his son promise that he would be careful with all the books as some of them looked positively ancient and hence worth a fortune, his son was off with an “Sure Da, I am not a savage” and Thranduil’s consent.

They had a more difficult time finding time for the two of them, so to speak, as Thranduil was … very vocal during sex, as Bard had come to find out. And regardless if Bard liked it or not – which he did, by the way – there was no way they could sleep with each other while children were in the house. It amused the mechanic to no end: The man who was the epitome of collected and cold restraint (if one didn’t know him too well, that was) could not keep quiet in bed even if his life depended on it. However, they sometimes stole an evening where either Bain looked after Tilda (and Bard would return late in the night so he could be there in the morning), they slept in one of the guest rooms that were conveniently located on the other end of the master bedroom on the endless corridor in the Greenleaf-mansion or, on rarer occasions, they stayed with Percy and his wife for the night. Still, Bard relished in hand-holding during watching TV with his children or the casual kisses (usually accompanied by Bain’s choking noises). It sounded really stupid but Bard liked it just as much – even though in a different way – as their heaty moments in bed. “Maybe we’re getting old …” Bard had chuckled and winked at Thranduil. The blonde had only scoffed in mock offense, “Speak for yourself …” at which Bard had laughed.

 

One minor crisis had come up about a week before the Christmas break:

Thranduil had shaken Bard awake in the middle of the night. “Bard? … BARD!!!” The addressed one had only groaned and rolled over to face the blonde. “What’s the matter?” he asked, trying his best to wake up. Maybe one of the kids had called. That night, Bain was staying with a friend and Tilda’s class had organized for them to camp in the library and have a kind of nocturnal-reading class or whatever. Which meant that Bard had invited Thranduil. Once he blinked one eye open, he calmed down immediately again. If something would have happened, either to Tilda or Bain, the blonde would already be dressed and ready to go. Bard found that sometimes, the designer was more concerned for his kids than he was himself – which surely meant something.

 

“I cannot do this, Bard …” Thranduil stated, panic clearly rising up in his chest.

 

Well, at that moment, Bard surely was awake. “What do you mean?” he asked and sat up, shaking the sleep as best as he could. Was the blonde breaking up with him? _Now?!_ After they’d … well … had such a great time a few hours ago? Bard’s heart began to race.

 

“I mean …” Thranduil started and gesticulated, “I cannot host my son and his … his _boyfriend_ , for crying out loud, over Christmas! We’ve barely had the chance to talk since … since I told him everything about me and my past and … was haven’t talked about … about HIM and …” Thranduil sighed theatrically.

 

Bard on the other hand breathed a sigh of relief and sank back into his cushion with a chuckle – which promptly earned him a raised eyebrow from the blonde. “I fail to see the humor in this, Bard!” he added sternly.

 

“Yeah … I know, I know, just … You almost gave me a heart attack! Give an old man a break, will you?” Bard said and chuckled again.

 

“You are hardly old … Must I really remind you of what we have done only hours ago … and how …” Thranduil trailed off and Bard blushed. The blonde surely was flexible, that much needed to be said. “What did you think I was going to say?” Thranduil wanted to know and Bard sighed. He truly felt ridiculous: “If a guy in your bed wakes you up in the middle of the night stating that _he cannot do this_ , what do you think I thought?”

 

Thranduil frowned at Bard for a few moments before realization dawned quite obviously, “You silly man thought I was going to break up with you …” Bard looked sheepishly up at the other man and nodded once. “And why on earth would I be doing that?” Thranduil asked indignantly. Bard only shrugged, “Maybe you’ve come to realize that I’m only a poor mechanic …”

 

Thranduil leaned down and kissed Bard soundly on the lips, “You are being ridiculous. Now, can we please go back to my sever problem. … Thank you! How can I host my son and his boyfriend adequately? I mean, I have barely even admitted to being openly gay myself … and now my son is bringing _someone_ over Christmas with whom …” The gesticulating started again.

 

“What?” Bard asked, “With whom he what? Does the things we just did two rooms down the corridor?”

 

“Oh dear God ...” Thranduil groaned and buried his face in Bard’s mismatched pillows.

 

Bard chuckled and pulled the over-dramatic blonde into his arms. “It will be fine.” The “How do you know that?” was barely audible due to the amount of pillows.

 

“Well, first, Legolas asked you if he could bring this mysterious someone. So obviously, he thinks you can handle it. Secondly, it surely isn’t easy for him either – considering the history of his coming out.” Thranduil sighed and Bard only rubbed his elegant shoulder, “To find out that their parents had only been married for political and societal reasons and had relationship with men on the side surely wasn’t the most welcome news either. Still, he trusts you enough to bring _his_ boyfriend home with him for Christmas and introduce you to him … us. There is also us. Which is probably even worse for him than the thing with his boyfriend is for you.”

 

Thranduil sighed and looked up from where his face had been buried between pillows and Bard’s neck. “And as usual, you are right. How are you so wise, Bard Bowman?”

 

Bard chuckled, “I have three of them, don’t you remember?” Thranduil grinned.

 

“Come to think of it: I’m sure the same thing will happen sometime soon with Sigrid as well”, Bard contemplated and as a reply to Thranduil’s questioning look he added, “With Fíli … I’m sure there’s something up there as well …”

 

The blonde snorted disapprovingly at the mentioning of the Durin-boy’s name. “Let’s not go there now …” Bard said in a calming manner as the family feud with the Oakenshield’s would not help their current situation one bit.

 

They lay there a few moments in silence when Bard had an idea: “Would you rather we celebrated Christmas with you?” Thranduil had maneuvered himself instantly onto Bard’s chest, looking him in the eyes intensely. “You would really do that?”

 

Bard shrugged, “Sure. … We always have a little ceremony at Magda’s tree but afterwards I could load the bunch into my car and we could drive over. I’ll have to ask the kids first but I don’t think that they will object.”

 

Thranduil kissed him passionately, “Thank you, thank you so much!” he said gratefully before he attacked his lips with another kiss. “How did I deserve a great partner like you?” the blonde smiled happily. Bard’s heart started to beat faster. Never had Thranduil called him anything like a partner before.

 

“So I am your partner now?” Bard asked and grinned stupidly while cupping Thranduil’s face with one hand.

 

“Of course you are. My son has boyfriends, I have a partner. It’s only logical”, he said matter-of-factly and Bard suddenly felt giddy all over. “I like that”, he said before he sealed their mouth together in another kiss.

 

As predicted, neither Tilda nor Bain or Sigrid had anything against spending Christmas Eve and the following day at the Greenleaf-mansion; if anything, Sigrid was ecstatic as she hadn’t seen Legolas in a very long time. However, Bard also suspected she was more than keen on seeing himself with Thranduil. So he supposed he should make first impressions count and greeted Thranduil with a loving kiss right under the door before he wished him a Merry Christmas. Bard was sure he heard a little gasp from his eldest but couldn’t care less. Once they parted, the mechanic gave Thranduil a once over and felt almost shabby in his best dark jeans and the burgundy sweater: His partner – and how much he loved the fact that he could call the other man that now – wore cream-colored, tight pants and a dark-green and deep-red tunic. “I see you got the festive outfit out then …” Bard grinned and Thranduil shrugged, “Legolas already told me that I look like a Christmas tree …” the blonde said, not without fondness in his voice, so Bard guessed that everything was alright between them. Which was quite something, he supposed. He grinned, “I cannot say that he is entirely wrong. Still, he shouldn’t be so rude to his father …” Bard said and raised his voice so Legolas, who surely hovered nearby, would hear him. “I guess I have to tell him off …” he called good-naturedly and with another fond look at Thranduil pushed past the same, who promptly got attacked by Tilda, affectionately clinging to his legs.

 

As predicted, Legolas was already on his way over to Bard, grinning smugly: “I see you couldn’t even wait for the mistletoe.” Bard smiled back, “If there’s no need to, why waste any time?” he said and was immediately captured by Legolas in a hug. He couldn’t say that he expected anything reserved from the teenager, but still, this tight hug surprised him. As did the “Thank you, Bard! For everything!” that was whispered in his ear. He, in turn, only squeezed Legolas’ back as Bard was sure he would understand.

Once Thranduil’s son had pulled back slightly, he took Bard’s elbow and guided him into their dining room, where another blonde young man was waiting somewhat awkwardly. And who could blame him, considering this burst of emotions in a house like the Greenleaf-mansion. “Bard, I want to introduce you to Éomer, whom I have already told you briefly about.” Bard found the blush on both of the boys’ cheeks to be more than endearing. He stepped forward and offered his hand to Legolas’ guest. “Bard Bowman, very happy to finally meet you”, Bard smiled. His hand was embraced by a firm grip of the rather tanned and handsome, if slightly stern looking young man, “Éomer Éading … and likewise, Mr. Bowman. Legolas has told me a lot about you …”

 

“Oh dear!” Bard chuckled, “And please call me Bard. That Mr. Bowman-thing makes me feel older than I already am …” Éomer smiled and let go of his hand. Legolas gripped at Bard’s shoulders and looked over his left one, “That’s exactly what he said to me …”

 

“Because it’s true …” Bard defended and the three of them shared a grin before Sigrid threw herself at Legolas from behind in her very own warm welcome. At Tilda’s surprised exclamation as she saw Éomer, Bard only raised his eyebrows in confusion but learned that they had met at the archery camp, where Éomer’s sister Éowyn had taught as well. Apparently, Éomer had visited for a weekend. “Is that so …” Bard said and looked at Legolas with an amused raise of his eyebrow. The blonde only shook his head. “We didn’t … I mean … Not then … I’ll tell you some other time …” he stuttered and Bard only nodded. He was sure he would. As of now, Thranduil, perfect host that he was, called them all to the table anyway.

 

During the course of the evening, Bard learned that the two boys had already met during summer,  as he already knew, but had re-encountered at university where Legolas studied acting and classical music and Éomer was one of the sports people (apparently, he had a scholarship for being in the football team). The exact events of their meeting were not revealed but Bard supposed it was simply none of their business. Then, it was time for him and Thranduil to explain … well, them. But Bard supposed they did fine, even though he did most of the talking while the blonde took one gulp of wine after the other. After the two older kids had updated their respective fathers (and the rest of the festive bunch) about their times at college, the talk ventured towards holiday plans and there, Legolas suddenly cleared his throat. “Uhm father … I meant to ask you …” Thranduil turned his head from Tilda, who sat to his left, to Legolas on his right. Only raising his eyebrows in question, he waited for the teenager to continue. “Tauriel … she was planning a party for New Year’s and … she, well, we were wondering if … we maybe could have the party here …?” Bard noticed that Legolas exchanges a quick glance with Sigrid, so he suspected that his girl knew about said plans too.

 

“In this house?” Thranduil asked a bit shocked and his boy ducked just slightly at the tone of voice. Still, he replied, “Well yes. It’s just a question, father, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. We just thought … well, we have enough space so …”

 

Thranduil took another sip of wine before he started, “I would say that depends …”

 

Legolas looked at his father again and Bard sent a silent prayer to heaven that the blonde did not answer with something like ‘If those two Oakenshield-creatures are coming as well’. But suddenly, his head whipped around to look at Bard, “If the Bowman household grants me refuge for one night.”

 

“Excuse me?” Legolas asked and Thranduil waved his hand in exasperation, “Legolas, you know that I love Tauriel as if she too were a child of me. But that girl’s taste in music is downright terrifying! And, more importantly, an insult to my ears. So unless she hasn’t changed her taste in artistry profoundly, which I highly doubt, I am afraid I cannot stand an entire night of that horrendous noise.”

 

Everybody around the table started to chuckle. Bard looked at Legolas, “Send out your invitations, your father and his sensitive ears are more than welcome.” Legolas beamed and it looked suspiciously like he was squeezing Éomer’s hand under the table. “Thanks! Thanks so much. Both of you!” he added happily. Bard looked fondly but with a raised eyebrow at Thranduil, who only stared back in defense. “Don’t give me that look Bard, you have no idea what I am talking about.” Legolas chuckled but Bard only shook his head, “In fact, I do know. They hosted their farewell-party at ours …”

 

“Goodness gracois!” Thranduil scoffed and his son bit his lip. “Who’s going to be invited?” Thranduil wanted to know after a short pause. Bard supposed it was a fair question. He too would want to know if ten or fifty people would be partying in his house.

 

“Uhm, not so many people …” Legolas started, “Apart from Tauriel, Sigrid, and us”, Bard noted how naturally it slipped off Legolas’ tongue that he and Éomer were an _us_ , but once he realized what he had just said, he blushed furiously and cast his eyes down onto his empty desert plate. Apparently, this thing between them was more serious than Legolas had let on. Bard exchanged a quick glance with Thranduil, who was practically beaming. “Uhm … Éomer’s sister Éowyn, Faramir, Aragorn and Arwen, Gimli and … uhm …” the blonde student trailed off but Thranduil rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, I know, the two Durin-boys. It’s fine. They can come. But if one piece of anything is missing, so help me God …”

 

Bard sighed, “Thranduil …” He hoped he gave his partner his best and most effective ‘really-now’-look. The blonde, however, didn’t seem impressed at all. “Don’t look at me like that Bard. They are like hamsters!”

 

“Come on, now you’re exaggerating …” Bard scolded, well aware that his eldest daughter gripped her desert spoon a little tighter than before.

 

Thranduil rolled his eyes, “I already said that they can come, didn’t I? … It’s more than anyone of these Oakenshield’s has ever done …”

 

Bard sensed that it was time to diffuse the upwelling tension, “Well, then. Presents, I’d say?”

 

“Presents?!” Bain said and lifted his head for the first time from the mousse au chocolat.

 

Thranduil nodded, “Yes. Bard and I have agreed that as it is custom here that everybody gets their presents tomorrow but in our, meaning Legolas’ and my homeland we get ours tonight, each of you will get one present today and the rest tomorrow.”

 

“YAY!” Tilda exclaimed and hopped off her chair in order to drag Thranduil down from his. To everyone’s surprise, he scooted Tilda up and made his way to the downstairs living room. “Everybody, follow me …” he instructed over his shoulder. Legolas and Éomer followed with Bain trailing a bit behind. He had to finish his mousse first. Sigrid however seemed like she was frozen on the spot. “Everything alight darling?” Bard wanted to know. _‘Hopefully she isn’t too upset about the hamster-thing!’_ Bard thought. Sigrid’s gaze didn’t leave the trail of people until they disappeared in the next room. “Is he always like that?”

 

Bard shook his head, “What do you mean?”

 

It was only then that Sigrid looked up at him, “With Bain and Tilda. He just scooped her up in his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world …” Sigrid said with a not too little amount of awe in her voice.

 

Bard smiled, “You know that Tilda always had a special way of getting people’s affection. Just wait until you see him braid her hair …”

 

“What? You’re kidding …” his girl asked flabbergasted. Bard chuckled and laid an arm around her shoulder, “Am not …”

 

As they made their way to the others, he added, “I’m sorry about the hamster-thing. He didn’t mean that …”

 

“It’s okay Da …” Sigrid said and Bard wondered for the umpteenth time when she grew up like that.

 

Once they got into the living room with a huge Christmas tree decorated in silver and gold, Bain already had his present on his lap, tearing off the paper. Once he saw what it was – an encyclopedia of herbs – he almost wanted to ask who it was from (actually, Thranduil had spotted it online) but thought better in the last second. Tilda still believed in Christmas Elves after all. Still, the boy couldn’t stop beaming and gave a thumbs up once Tilda was tearing off the paper of hers. “It’s huge!” Tilda exclaimed and once the paper was off, she gasped. “A BOW!” she cried happily and after shouting out a loud “Thank you, Christmas Elves!” she immediately made a beeline for Legolas to show it to him. Then she ran over to him. “Look Da, it’s a bow. For me!!!” She hopped up and down excitedly and Bard had to chuckle. “It’s what you wanted, right?” he asked teasingly and once Tilda exclaimed, “Oh my God, YES! It’s amazing!” everybody had to giggle. Whilst Legolas was inspecting the gift with Tilda, Sigrid got a collection of Arthur Miller’s works she once had mentioned she needed for class – and then it was Legolas’ time. Once he could be separated from Tilda and Sigrid took his place, asking her little sister to explain everything at greatest detail and Éomer playing along too for good measure, Thranduil waved Legolas over. “I’m afraid, your present didn’t fit under the Christmas tree …” he said mysteriously. Legolas chuckled, “Is it that or were the Christmas Elves just lazy?” Thranduil only grinned and pointed to the sliding door to the next room. “It’s in there …” Legolas raised his eyebrows and slowly walked over to the door whilst Bard slid behind Thranduil, who almost fainted in anticipation. How many times Bard had to assure him that his son would love it … Quite frankly, he had lost count. Once the blonde teenager had opened the door he froze in the doorframe. “Oh my God …” he whispered. He quickly cast a glance back at his father, well and Bard, for that matter, before he took a cautious step into the room. “Oh my God!” he repeated and Bard squeezed Thranduil’s shoulder fondly, whispering an “I told you!” into his ear before gently shoving Thranduil into the other room as well. Legolas was looking at the beautifully carved cello that sat in the middle of the room.

 

“It’s a Rivendell …” Legolas whispered and cast a glance back at his father, “Is this really mine?” he asked flabbergasted.

 

“It sure is”, Thranduil said, his voice thick with emotion.

 

“But …” Legolas said and carefully touched the instruments neck, “It’s antique. It had to cost a fortune …” the teenager remarked with eyes round as plates.

 

Thranduil took a step forward and shrugged, “Well, I thought we have a fortune so why not invest it in something that puts a smile on my son’s face?” Legolas looked from Thranduil to the instrument one more time before he hurried over and met his father in a tight hug. “Thank you Ada, thank you so much!” Thranduil’s arms laid carefully around his son’s middle. “Anything … my little leaf.” Father and son looked each other in the eyes for a long time before Thranduil said, “Come on, try it!” at which Legolas beamed and hurried over to tune the instrument. The designer turned back to Bard with tears in his eyes. The mechanic only grinned, “Now, now. He loves it, there’s no need to cry!” he joked.

 

“He hasn’t called me that in years …” Thranduil whispered towards Bard.

 

“What, Ada?” the dark-haired man wanted to know and Thranduil nodded, tears dangerously close to just rolling down his cheeks. “Well, when was the last time you called him little leaf?” Bard asked and Thranduil smacked him playfully on the shoulder.

 

“Merry Christmas, my beautiful Christmas Elf”, Bard joked and snuck an arm around Thranduil’s waist.

 

“Merry Christmas, my love!” Thranduil answered and both men met in a loving kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have made it 'till here it would make my day if you left me some feedback. :)


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